


I Know That Greatness Lies in You

by SparrowFlight246



Series: I'll Do Whatever it Takes [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Abusive Foster Family, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Complete, Eventual Foster Fic, Eventual Lams, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Foster Care, Gen, Hospitals, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'll add more tags later, Martha's a lawyer cause GIRL POWER, Medical Angst, Modern AU, Multichapter!, Pnemonia, Revolutionary squad's sixteen-ish, Washingdad, Washington's a teacher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2018-12-02 22:12:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 42,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11518545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparrowFlight246/pseuds/SparrowFlight246
Summary: When Alexander Hamilton walked into George Washington's classroom, the teacher knew that something big was about to change.Well, he was right in some respects, at least.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! New fic focusing on sweet, familial love because I had way too much fun writing I'm Home and I wanna go back to that. 
> 
> This should update about weekly, I'm not sure if it will have a set day or not yet... probably eventually! Beta'd by Jaysong, as per usual. Let me know if you're interested in this story (kudos or, if you're feeling particularly angelic, comment), because then I'll update faster once I know if people will read it! 
> 
> Enjoy and thanks for reading!

George Washington would never forget the day Alexander Hamilton first walked into his classroom. Actually, he was pretty sure he was incapable of forgetting it. That day truly changed his life forever, twisted his future in ways he had never imagined, if he really took the time to think about it. Although it wasn't as if anything horribly memorable happened either. It was simply the day that started it all.

But, of course, Washington had no understanding nor clue of any of those details that completely unsuspecting Tuesday morning, instead simply leaning back against his desk with a coffee mug in his hand as his students filed into AP History. 

It was first period and quite early in the morning, most of the sophomores nearly collapsing into their chairs as they groaned dramatically. These kids had long mastered the technique of coming across as exhausted, overworked children and eager young adults simultaneously, something that may be the overall goal of being a teenager, Washington mused. But, nonetheless, they all displayed their exhausted, overworked children side now as they leaned back in their chairs, eyes half closed and hair half brushed in their apparent and undiluted exhaustion. Washington suppressed a chuckle at this. He had been up and awake for several hours now and was doing just fine, but for the teenagers waking up anytime before 10 am was dreadfully early. 

Still early into the school year, Washington had memorized all of the names in his classes, but had yet to get a good understanding of the personalities of his students. Most of them, anyway. He absently pondered how these kids would turn up to be like when he got to know them better through teaching, gazing out the still-dark window as he sipped his coffee.

That was when the sound of laughter pulled his attention to the classroom door. There, the usual group of boys he had come to think quite fondly of were tumbling into the room. One was his foster son, Lafayette, leaping around the group exclaiming loudly in French, sparing Washington a quick wave of hello before turning back to his friends. Chuckling, Washington waved slightly back, watching as Hercules Mulligan, his son’s boyfriend, let out a booming laugh around the stack of textbooks in his arms and stepped masterfully around the twirling Lafayette to set his books down at his seat. Then John Laurens laughingly skidded into the room, an open sketchbook topping his own pile of binders and a No. 2 pencil tucked behind his ear, the yellow painted wood nearly lost in his wild, pulled-away-from-his-face-but-still-untameable brown curls.

Washington had grown to think of the other two boys as family as much as he did Lafayette. For good reason as well; they were over his house more often than Washington was. Martha had even begun introducing the trio to strangers as her sons, much to Herc and John’s bashful embarrassment and Lafayette’s delight. 

That was about when Washington realized there was another boy among the group. How he managed to miss the new teenager before, he wasn't entirely sure, because now the unfamiliar boy was shockingly apparent.

Although he was shorter than the rest of the group, small and slight in figure, he had a presence that definitely made up for his size. His deep brown hair was pulled back into a artfully done messy bun, dark eyes smiling yet distrustful. Wearing an oversized sweatshirt that only dramatised his small stature and build, he seemed oddly at home yet uncomfortable in the middle of the friend group.

Frowning, Washington set down his coffee mug and glanced at his email, open on his computer. _New student arriving October 11. Alexander Hamilton._ Ah. Today was October 11. That would explain the new boy. 

Taking another look at the small teenager, Washington chuckled lightly at the sheer size of the boy’s name. But, something in the boy’s eyes, whether it be the determination, fire, or spirit, told Washington the kid would be living up to it.

Smiling faintly, Washington approached the boy. He offered his hand in introduction. “I’m Mr. Washington,” he explained, the boy cautiously shaking his hand. “You must be Alexander.”

Nodding, the boy pulled his hand back to tuck a piece of hair behind his ear. “Alex, please,” he requested quietly, looking up at Washington with plain, intelligent curiosity.

“Of course,” Washington smiled. 

Suddenly, Lafayette seemed to notice that Washington and Alex were speaking, and immediately made himself part of the conversation. “Mon ami!” he gasped, flying to Alex’s side. “This is my foster father as well as our teacher!”

Eyebrows raising in surprise, Alex looked from Washington to Lafayette. “Oh?” His voice was delicate and polite. 

Ruffling his foster son’s hair, Washington chuckled. “Ah, yes. My wife and I took in Lafayette about four years ago.” Lafayette laughed as his already extremely messy bun was just worsened by his foster father, causing Washington to chuckle again. “As you can see, he became part of the family nearly instantly.”

Alex nodded, a small smile still gracing his face. “That I can,” he agreed.

“Well, we’d best be getting to our seats. _Tu vois_ , we found Alex wandering in the halls, and we have the same classes together, so _nous voilà_!” Lafayette exclaimed. Hercules had already gone to his seat, John shooting a quick smile at Alex before doing the same. 

Washington grinned fondly at the boys as he returned to the front of the classroom, just in time for the bell to ring. “Good morning,” he said into the classroom, sipping his coffee.

A chorus of drowsy _good morning_ s, among a loud exclamation of “ _Bonjour!_ ” from Lafayette, filled the room. Washington leaned forward against his desk, hands on the wood and fingers spread for stability. Lord, he loved this job. And, as he eyed the dark eyed boy sitting among the crowd of famIliar students, watching Washington with clear interest and intelligence, he had a funny feeling this job was about to get a lot more interesting.

Whether the feeling would take action or not, he wasn't yet sure, but something about that kid was certainly about to change something or another.

Washington was nearly positive of that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex comes to Mount Vernon for the first time, and we get a hint of his home life.
> 
> Washington is not pleased with what he discovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The much requested chapter two has arrived, folks! And it's long! 
> 
> So I have gotten some great feedback on the first chapter... thank you all so much! Each kudos made me smile and each comment made my day. Keep it coming, let me know what you guys think! I LOVE HEARING FROM YOU! 
> 
> Beta'd by Jaysong, as literally always. She's great. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and enjoy!

Somehow, when Washington walked into his house that night, he wasn't the least bit surprised to find four boys instead of three sprawled out across his living room furniture. Call it a hunch, but he had somewhat figured this would happen.

“Hello,” he chuckled, leaning against the doorframe of the living room as he surveyed Laf, Herc, John and Alex watching a Disney movie over a shared bowl of popcorn. School had ended a few hours ago, and Washington had just gotten a chance to get away. 

“Oh, hey Mr. Washington,” Herc greeted the man, looking up from a knitting pattern he was studying. Meanwhile, John half mindedly sketched a remarkably realistic version of Belle from Beauty and the Beast, modeling off of the movie on the TV screen. He also said hello to his teacher before returning to his sketchbook.

Giving Alex a playfully pointed look, Washington smiled. “Well, this is a new one,” he remarked gently. “I assume Lafayette gave you the tour?”

Suddenly, Alexander appeared terrified by Washington’s presence. Sitting up, he looked like he was about to bolt. He started several sentences before breaking off, until he finally found one he seemed to be able to finish. This all happened very quickly, for the record, not long enough for Washington to react or do anything about it. “I-I’m sorry, Mr. Washington, Laf said it would be alright if I came over-”

“ _Oui_ ,” Lafayette confirmed, his gaze locked on the movie with a fierce determination not to miss a single French word.

“-Mrs. Washington said you wouldn't have a problem with it either but I should have checked-”

“Alex,” Washington interrupted in alarm, once he found his voice. His tone was firm and gently commanding. “Calm down, you’re fine. I was just a little surprised to see you here. This group hasn't changed since these guys were twelve.”

“True,” John agreed, smiling down at his sketchbook as his pencil perfectly shaded Belle’s eyes.

Gulping, Alex seemed relax slightly. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, son.”

Alex seemed to tense at this title, but Martha entered the room and cut him off. 

“George,” she greeted the man warmly, going to hug her husband. “How was your day?” 

Walking into the kitchen, talking and laughing with her, Washington nearly forgot about Alex’s strange behavior. The worry, the tenseness, the aversion to the name of ‘son’. His mind was almost pulled off the reasons behind these habits. 

But not completely.

***

It was a few hours later that Martha was leaning against the living room doorframe, watching the four boys in amusement. She had only met Alex that day, just like the rest of the makeshift family, but she already knew that he would be sticking around for quite a long time. The fact that he had been invited along to the house alone was enough for her to get attached the kid. 

The four were currently sprawled out across her living room furniture, not that Martha minded, of course. With several teenage boys in her house as often as they were, she had long learned that some things are simply allowed to be relaxed.

The movie had ended, so the boys had, naturally, begun another one. Something Disney, Martha was positive (that was all they watched, really), although she didn't pay enough attention to the screen to tell which one. Her gaze was fondly focused on the boys instead. 

Hercules, forever the gentle giant, was stitching a few pieces of fabric together. His sewing kit was open on the couch beside him, the materials neat and organized. What he working on now would result in, she had no idea, but after seeing some of his past work she was sure it would rival the things you would find in a particularly expensive and particularly choosy store. The things that boy could craft from a length of thread and a few scraps of cloth would never cease to amaze her. 

Meanwhile, John had finished his Belle sketch and was, instead, drawing a turtle. He had long perfected his turtle-sketching technique, and the resulting graphite image was one that could be easily mistaken for a photograph. Martha had once, after a long time of casually dropping hints about how much she was like to be able to see John’s drawings, been granted the chance to page through his sketchbook, and John’s work was nothing short of astonishing. 

Laf was, as usual, simply watching the movie, but Alex was the one that somewhat surprised her. He had a tattered notebook open in his lap, and a pen clutched in his right hand. He dragged the tip across the the beige, yellowed-by-time pages, the edges crimped and slightly torn in areas from use, the ink forming letters, words, stories as the pen went. The swoops and spirals of his hand were honestly beautiful, Alex’s gaze fixed on the paper in careless concentration. 

Martha was nearly mesmerized by the way the boy wrote. She watched from the doorway, quietly wondering what words, exactly, the pen could be producing. She was somehow certain that they were just as beautiful as the writing.

“Oh, hello Martha!” she suddenly heard exclaimed. Alex snapped his journal shut in alarm, his words immediately hidden.

“Hello, boys,” she smiled, trying to pull herself back into the moment. Although Lafayette had been the first to notice her, the other boys now put down their multiple activities to look at her expectantly. “It's just getting late… would you guys like to stay for dinner?”

Immediately, John and Hercules whooped in unison. “Yes!” John yelled, lunging for his phone to let his family know that he wouldn’t be home for few more hours. He lived with his grandmother now, and had for a few years, so he was positive he’d be allowed to. Hercules reached for his phone as well to do the same. Martha’s cooking was well known and extremely respected by the boys, so neither hesitated to agree.

“Yes, _mes amis_!” Lafayette exclaimed as well, sending Martha a quick look of thanks for offering.

Martha smiled over at the last boy. “Alex, what do you say?”

Alex bit his lip, apparently thinking it over. Although he looked slightly troubled when he made his decision, he smiled. “I’d like to, if that's alright.”

Martha beamed. “Of course!” she exclaimed immediately.

***

Washington walked into the kitchen to find four boys flopped into chairs, surrounding the kitchen table and laughing about something or another. 

“I assume you’re all staying for dinner?” he asked as he entered, flashing a smile Martha’s way as he leaned back against the counter. 

The conversation broke off for the boys to look over at Washington. “Oh yeah.” John grinned cheekily up at him. “You can't get rid of us that easy.”

Washington groaned playfully, but soon he was laughing as well. Martha smiled as she began serving food, passing around plates to each of the boys and her husband. She set the last plate in front of the one empty chair at the table and finally sat down herself.

Immediately, the boys dug into the meal. Well, John, Herc and Laf did. They knew the quality of Martha’s cooking and were quick to begin eating, so the table was briefly quiet, considering the loudest people there had their mouths stuffed full. Meanwhile, Alex picked at his food. It didn't seem like he didn't like what he was given, more like he simply wasn't that hungry.

Making a mental note of Alex’s reluctance to eat, Martha took advantage of the momentary quiet (she knew from experience that the silence would not last with four teenage boys in her kitchen) and smiled at the new boy over the table. “So, Alex. George told me that you're new to the area. What brings you to Virginia?”

Quickly swallowing the small bite of food he had taken, Alex wiped his mouth with his napkin before speaking. “Um, I was just placed with a foster family here.”

Making sure Alex couldn't see, John, Herc and Laf exchanged quick, subtle glances of concern at this. Washington raised his eyebrows slightly. “I see. Who are you staying with?” he asked, tone neutral.

Immediately, the man was tense and cautious. Lafayette had thankfully been spared experience in the system, being taken in by the Washingtons, old family friends, immediately after his parents passed, but Washington was more than aware of the horrors of foster care. Suddenly the odd, nervous behavior Alex often displayed made sense in the worst possible way. 

Alex’s gaze flickered up to Washington’s, dark eyes guarded. “A man named George King.”

Washington froze. 

Picking up on the subtle things that most people would miss, Alex caught this. “Do you know him?” he asked slowly, cautiously. His expression was suddenly distrustful.

Washington hesitated for a moment, finding Alex’s intense gaze hard to hold. “I know of him,” he finally responded carefully, cutting up a piece of chicken as he spoke. “Martha has worked… around King before.” He didn't add that Martha was a lawyer, often working for the victim of King’s abuse when she did work around him. How on God’s green earth was that man allowed to be a foster father? Washington immediately wanted to get Alex out of that situation as quickly as he could, but he also knew that he had literally no proof that King had done anything to Alex. There was no evidence, so there was no case. Nothing could be done at this point and time.

Alex nodded, looking at his food. “Hmm,” he hummed quietly. 

An awkward silence settled over the table, broken only by the clinking of silverware on ceramic plates and the quiet sound of beverage glasses and pop cans, depending on who was sitting in the seat before the drinks, being set down on the table. After a few moments of uncomfortable quiet, John swallowed a bite of food and flashed Martha a smile. 

“The food’s amazing,” he said honestly, and Martha smiled in thanks. 

“It really is, Mrs. Washington,” Alex quickly agreed. 

“Oh, please, Alex,” Martha chuckled. “Just call me Martha.”

Alex nodded, smiling faintly. “Yes, ma’am.”

As the meal continued, Martha and Washington somewhat stepped out of the conversation in order to watch the boys interacting. Laf hadn't brought any of his friends home since John and Herc, because those two were all he really needed. Although he often hung out with the Schuyler girls, all of which Washington knew and quite liked, they had never visited Mount Vernon. So the fact that Alex was brought to the house the same day Laf had met him meant quite a lot. 

Washington watched as the boys laughed and joked together, the group only enhanced by Alex’s dry, occasionally surprisingly funny humor. Although the new boy was still hesitant, he seemed to fit in perfectly among the group. Not to mention the way he and John kept quietly watching each other in a way that mirrored Herc and Laf’s sly glances from before they had begun dating. 

So, hours later, when the boys minus Lafayette had gone home and Washington and Martha were lying side by side in bed, neither could resist smiling into the darkness.

“I think there’s going to be a fourth teenager in our house from now on,” Martha whispered, her hair spread out across her pillow in a beautifully unknowing display. 

“Oh, definitely,” Washington chuckled quietly.

Martha sighed contentedly, the soft sound sweet in the quiet of night. “They seem happy.”

“They do,” Washington agreed. But, suddenly, his mood darkened as he thought about the conversation he and Alex had had at dinner. The fact that Alex was being fostered by George King still bothered him. Why this didn't affect Martha as much as it did him, especially when she was the one that had been in the courtroom with the man, Washington wasn't sure, but she didn't appear concerned in the slightest. 

Biting his lip lightly, he decided to bring it up. “But I’m still worried about the Alex and King situation.” His voice was low and his concern for the boy apparent, but his tone was hesitant to ruin the content atmosphere the previous, pleasant conversation had created. But his wife didn't seem too concerned by the topic change or the topic at all, really, as he watched her carefully and was just able to make out her silhouette beside him in the darkness.

“That’s part of the reason I’m glad Alex is fitting in so well,” Martha replied calmly. “He’ll be over here often. We can watch him, make sure he’s alright.”

Washington sighed heavily, brow creased with unresolved worry. “I suppose so.”

Martha shifted to look at her husband, the bed sheets rustling in the darkness as she met his gaze. “Honey, Alex will be alright. He has us now. We’ll keep him safe.”

“I suppose so,” Washington repeated quietly. He kissed his wife goodnight. “We both have work in the morning. We’d best be getting to sleep.”

Martha smiled, her white teeth reflecting the limited light in the dark bedroom. “Love you. Now, get to bed.” She turned away from him, getting comfortable as the bed clothes shifted beneath her. 

Sighing softly, Washington nodded. “I love you too, sweetheart.” 

And although Martha fell asleep nearly instantly, completely unconcerned with the situation and fine with the makeshift plan they had formulated, Washington was awake for hours.

He wasn't entirely sure why this boy meant so much to him already. He had only met the kid for the first time today, for goodness sake. But he was suddenly and irreversibly attached. Even now, he had begun to think of the boy the same way he did John and Herc and especially Laf. As a son. 

Washington sighed again, crossing his arms behind his head to act as a pillow as he stared up at the shadowed ceiling. At least he had Alex as a student. He’d be able to keep an eye on him both at school and at Mount Vernon, which would supply a nearly constant watch over the boy, allowing little time for the kid to be around King. 

And, in a montage of shitty arrangements and worrisome situations, Washington could only thank God for that.

They would figure it out as the family they were, Washington and Martha and Lafayette and Hercules and John and now Alex. 

It would be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you can, give me some feedback! How am I doing with this story so far? 
> 
> This should update about weekly... sometime around each weekend, I'm thinking! See you guys next week!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is smart. 
> 
> Washington, for some reason, is somewhat surprised by this.
> 
> Martha is just really great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This chapter is kinda short and a little bit boring but I got to play with words (always fun) and there's some important stuff in there so it works out! 
> 
> Thanks for reading and enjoy!

Everyone that even looked at Alexander Hamilton knew he was intelligent. 

How this worked, Martha wasn’t quite sure, but it was something about his eyes, she figured as she sat across the kitchen table from him. There was so much depth, knowledge, experience, buried in those big, dark brown eyes. She could see it plainly, slyly watching the boy as he and Lafayette did their homework together. She was working on notes for a case, nothing particularly interesting, and the kitchen was silent, allowing Martha to simply observe. 

Meanwhile, John and Herc weren’t able to come to Mount Vernon that day. John’s grandmother wanted him and his siblings to have a family night, while Hercules had found a sewing class that he wanted to try out. So, it was just Laf and Alex sitting side by side at the kitchen table, occasionally discussing math problems in low voices but for the most part working in quiet. 

So Martha just watched. 

Alex had arrived just a few days prior, but he was already a huge part of the group. And, fortunately, Washington and Martha had yet to see a single mark on him from George King. And they were definitely watching. This was wonderful news, for it meant King had yet to try anything. Right now, it was the Washingtons’ job to make sure Alex felt comfortable enough around them to come to them if anything were to happen. Unfortunately, they had yet to reach that point, but it was something to work towards.

But, even though Martha was just beginning to know the boy, she found it extremely easy to realize just how smart he was. She could see it in his speech, his behavior, and above all, his eyes. He had an intelligence level higher than the clouds, that much was for certain.

So, when Washington came home that evening with a file of test scores in his hand and a stunned expression on his face, Martha wasn’t surprised in the slightest. 

***

That evening, after Lafayette had retired to his room while blasting French music through his earbuds and Alex had returned to his foster home, Martha and Washington sat across from each other at the kitchen table. The night was black through the windows, the limited lighting casting a dim glow over the kitchen and the mess of papers covering the table. Martha paged through the files, technically not supposed to be seeing them but not hesitating to see what information they held, as Washington leaned back in his chair with a sigh. 

“His test scores are… incredible,” he said in a low tone, his voice quiet to avoid being overheard by Laf. But, with the volume that boy blasted his music at, Washington doubted anything could reach him at the moment. “It’s no wonder Alex got off that island as a child. He’s unbelievable.”

Martha hummed as she scanned another paper, reading glasses perched on the edge of her nose. The glass caught a glare of light as she tipped her head to better see the words. “We always knew he was smart,” she murmured, flipping the sheet over to read the back, “so now we simply have evidence of that fact.” Smiling briefly at George, she picked up another file to thumb through. 

“It's amazing that he was only pushed ahead one year,” Washington commented, looking at the spread of files covering every square inch of the table. Martha sorted through them slowly, methodically. She had long gone into lawyer-mode. “He’s fifteen while the other boys are sixteen, but honestly, he would have done fine if they put him two, three grades ahead of his year. Of course, now he’s in this grade he’s doing wonderfully in it, but to think.”

Martha nodded silently, still looking through Alex’s academic history. Then she stopped, frowning, as he eyes settled on a certain section of the page. For a moment, she hesitated to say anything, but then sighed as her eyes narrowed at the end of the page. “George?” she asked, effectively attracting Washington’s attention. “Have you seen this?”

Also frowning, Washington reached across the table to take the paper from Martha and see for himself. Eyes lowering to the words, he immediately stalled on the first sentence. It was a teacher’s report. Washington had figured that Alex must have moved around a lot, what with being in the foster system, and he certainly wasn't wrong, files from roughly a dozen schools displayed across the wood. This particular file was from one of his middle schools. 

The teacher’s report, written in neat, tidy script, reported that Alex was hesitant to touch and scared easily. Now, that may not have been alarming on it’s own. What was worrying was the amount of teacher’s reports following the simple sentence, mirroring the first or announcing that Alex showed up in class with an odd, unexplainable bruise or limp or injury of some sort. The reports continued, and continued, and continued. The different handwritings and scripts and words, all delivering the same message, bled together in Washington's mind to form a devastating blur of concern. His breath caught in his throat as he rushed over the terrible words. Then, the list of reports stopped abruptly. At the end of the page there was small, typed paragraph stating that Alex had been removed from his current foster home for abuse and transferred to another across the state. The last sentence was cold and unfeeling, speaking of Alex as a specimen and not as an actual, breathing, _living_ child. But the expressionless words almost dramatized the meaning behind them, the horrible, horrible meaning behind them.

 _No_.

“He’s already been abused,” Washington breathed, his gaze locked on the typed statement. His mind spun, the words whirling and spiraling and collapsing and rebuilding yet staying scarily still all the while. Washington’s voice shook. “We’re too late.”

Suddenly, a smooth brown hand reached across the table and plucked the paper from his grip. He looked up to see Martha staring at him sternly from across the table, the paper now locked in her hands. “Now, we both know that's not true,” she chastised firmly. “We’re keeping Alex safe as we speak. We couldn't have helped him back then, it was years ago. But, in the here and now, we are doing everything we can to keep this boy protected.”

Sighing, Washington nodded, still looking at the paper in Martha’s hands as his own hands shook in his lap. He had already figured that Alex had experienced some kind of abuse in the boy’s many years of the foster system. But the truth, the simple _confirmation_ , still hit extremely hard. He took a shuddering breath, attempting to calm himself down from the panic he had been nearing. “I know,” he agreed wearily, quietly. “But this poor kid.”

Seeing where Washington’s gaze was settled, Martha quickly slipped the page back into the pile. Her expression softened. “I know,” she said as well, her voice now gentle. “I wish we could have been with him sooner too. But we’ve got him _now_. And that’s enough.”

Washington smiled faintly at his wife. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he said softly.

Martha smiled in return, beginning to gather the papers back into a pile. Her quick motions were no-nonsense, decidedly shutting down the downward spiral these files had created in her husband’s mind. “So I’ve been told. Now, it’s getting late. Bed?”

“Bed,” Washington agreed, groaning softly as he got up from his chair. “Thank you for helping me out with this, sweetheart.”

He was in so deep already.

Martha sighed, the papers gathered in her arms, as she looked towards her husband. “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos and please don't stop now! They really encourage me with writing and speed up the process quite a bit<3
> 
> Next chapter will be way longer and more interesting, I promise! 
> 
> See you guys next week!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington patches the boys up after a fight, and a teenager by the name of Thomas Jefferson makes his appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This chapter is a day earlier than I had planned, so yay for that! It looks like I'll be posting chapters every Friday (give or take a day on occasion) so just expect chapters then. 
> 
> This chapter is also long by my standards, so have fun with that! Beta'd by Jaysong (again, as LITERALLY ALWAYS).
> 
> Thanks for reading and enjoy!

True to Martha and Washington’s predictions, Alex was a nearly instant and definitely permanent addition to the group. He was at Mount Vernon almost daily, very quickly involved in John, Laf and Herc’s common shenanigans. Although the group appeared to be overjoyed with the new addition as well, Martha and Washington were especially relieved. They would be able to keep a near constant eye on Alex, making sure he was safe and healthy. It was a great arrangement all around.

Unfortunately, although becoming a part of the group was one of best things that could have happened for Alex, it came with it’s issues.

One of the major issues being a few boys by the name of Charles Lee and Samuel Seabury, with the occasional addition of Aaron Burr.

Fights were common and viscous between the Revolutionary set, as Washington had fondly begun calling the three boys of John, Laf and Herc before Alex came along, and the aggressive few that went against them. Washington had many a time patched up his boys after a particularly brutal brawl, so he knew about the frequent combats. No, he didn't approve of it in the slightest, but he would take care of them if it was needed.

So it really shouldn't have been a surprise that Alex quickly dove right into the middle of the fighting as well.

One evening about a week after Alex’s arrival, Washington was in the office working on grading papers when he heard the front door swing open, followed by quiet mutterings. Because Martha was working late that night and it could only be the boys that were coming in, he knew something was wrong the instant he realized there was an absence of laughter. 

Setting down his pen, he got to his feet, brow creased in concern, and hurried to the front door. He was greeted by the sight of four somber, bloody boys standing awkwardly in the foyer. John raised a hand halfway in hello, a sheepish, weak smile on his face for a split second before it died. It was pouring outside, so all of them were dripping wet and shivering. They all appeared miserable, but fixable.

But, immediately, Washington’s attention was pulled to Alex after guaranteeing that no one was about to collapse onto his hardwood. The boy looked skittish and worried, his clothes slightly torn and nose bleeding, knuckles beginning to swell. Washington’s mind sped back to the fact that Alex had been previously abused, causing him to inwardly wince. He knew that the fact that Alex was allowing himself to be in front of Washington while he was in such a vulnerable state was a small miracle. 

But Washington just couldn't bring himself to be glad about it.

“What happened?” he asked tightly, already going to retrieve the first aid kit from the bathroom. He should have been expecting for this to happen. He had already realized how witty Alex could be, that he knew how to defend himself after having to fend for himself for so long, it shouldn't have come as a surprise that he was quick to throw a punch. 

But he couldn't help but be angry. 

Whether he be mad at Alex, for not taking care of himself, or Lafayette and the other two boys, for letting Alex leap into the action, or himself, for not protecting the boy against a couple of punks, he wasn't sure and couldn't, at the moment, really realize the differences between them. Washington was just upset. That much he knew.

He walked back into the foyer with the first aid kit, jaw clenched. “Well? What happened?” he demanded quietly, standing before the soaked boys.

Lafayette sighed, favoring his left leg and wiping a small trail of blood from a cut above his eye. He met Washington’s gaze guiltily for a moment before looking away. “ _Je suis désolé_ , the matter simply got away from us-”

“It was my fault.” 

Alex stood before Washington, hands trembling but dark eyes shockingly intense and firm. The blood accenting his face only dramatised his determined, set expression.

“ _Mon petit-_ ” Lafayette tried brokenly, but Alex silenced him with a raised hand. 

“No,” he insisted. “Lee… Lee went after John.” He closed his eyes, steeling himself. “It was just verbal. He called John…” He hesitated, glancing over at John, who was silent and avoiding eye contact with all of them. “He called John a few things. I threw the first punch. Before I knew it, we were in a full on fight, which we ended up winning.” He frowned as he glanced over the other boys, his eyes stalling on Lafayette’s limp, the way John was subtly guarding his abdomen, Hercules’ quickly darkening black eye. “But not without cost.” 

Alex lowered his head in guilt. “So, it was my fault. Don't punish Laf. If anything, punish me.”

Washington frowned at Alex, his anger subsiding and relieved weariness that the boys were mostly okay taking its place. And, suddenly, as Alex’s meaning sank in, horror. He was expecting punishment. God knows what he had been trained to expect as punishment in the past. “I’ve seen these guys much worse than they are now. And, by the looks of you, you’ve already learned your lesson this time around. No one is being punished today.”

Alex couldn't fight the relief that showed on his face, which was a bittersweet moment for Washington. “Really?” 

“Yes, Alex.” Washington allowed a minuscule smile, hoping it didn't fully display his worry and concern. “Now, who’s the worst here?”

The three original boys were used to this routine, and quickly pushed Laf forward. The gangly boy was immediately complaining.

“Laf’s cut is the most serious,” Hercules explained over Lafayette’s protests. The latter glared fiercely at the others, but by that point Washington had already lead his foster son over to the living room couch and opened the first aid kit. 

So, Washington began working to treat each boy’s injuries. Although Martha was usually better at these types of things, Washington had taken a few first aid classes and had more than enough experience to do a decent job. He passed out towels for the boys to dry off, hoped that none of them would develop pneumonia as a result of this evening, and got to work.

Lafayette was the first, his forehead cut cleaned and butterfly-bandaged to keep the skin sealed together. And, as Laf settled himself into an armchair with an ice pack pressed against his hip where he had fallen onto the pavement at one point (which was also the cause of his limp) and offered moral support, John was up.

John hissed and occasionally swore his way through Washington pressing on his ribs to check if any had been broken in the fight, but it turned out that he had escaped the action with just bruising, to everyone’s relief. He was also handed an ice pack and sent to an armchair beside Laf, the latter attempting to cheer the other boys on until he got too enthusiastic and his forehead began bleeding again, Washington laughingly telling him to quiet down. 

Hercules was also given an ice pack for his black eye (Washington had long learned to stock up on ice) and then it was Alex’s turn. The boy walked up the couch-turned-examination-table and sat down stiffly, watching Washington in very thin trust with a cautious eye. Washington kneeled before him, first aid kit open on the carpet beside the man. 

Alex’s nose bleed had stopped quite a while before, luckily, but Washington wasn't sure if there were any injuries other than that. He knew that, for one, the boy’s knuckles were bloody and split from throwing punches. So, he started there. 

“Can I see your hands, please?” Washington asked gently, making sure to make himself as nonthreatening as possible. Alex’s past was at the front of his mind, keeping every movement slow and every word careful. Also, considering Alex’s experience with the hurricane in his childhood, the current storm couldn't have been helping the situation. So Washington was simply cautious.

Alex didn't respond, but held his hands out in front of him, palms down, wearily. It appeared to Washington that the boy was simply quite exhausted, by the obedient way he was suddenly acting. So, he tried to make treatment fast. 

At least, that was the plan until Washington realized how much blood Alex’s palms were suddenly producing.

Turning the boy’s hands over to study the long lacerations across the skin, Washington shot an alarmed look at Alex. “What happened here?” 

Alex coughed uncomfortably, his still-damp hair darker than usual because of the rain. “I, uh, fell at one point. Might of scratched my hands up a little.”

Lafayette, who was eyeing Alex’s bloody hands with alarmed unease, snorted softly. “ _Oui_ , a little,” he said with a dry tone barely concealing his concern, still sitting with his ice pack a few feet away.

“I didn't realize they were that bad,” Alex defended himself. 

Shaking his head, Washington began reaching for a damp towel to wipe off the blood along with a bottle of peroxide. “Alex, if you had known that your hands were injured, why didn't you say anything? We could have had them bandaged up and everything by now.”

“Laf’s cut was worse,” Alex protested, looking extremely uncomfortable being in the center of attention. He shifted on the couch, glancing around the room as if searching for an escape. Washington didn't allow himself to think too far into the reason why this response was now natural for the boy.

Snorting again softly, Laf touched the bandages on his forehead self consciously. “ _Non_ , it truly was not.”

Alex glared at the other boy. “Come on, you gotta give me something here.”

Laf’s expression was somewhat wounded. “I cannot, Alex. You were more injured than any of us were able to realize and you did not say anything. This one is on you.”

Sighing, Washington intervened to begin cleaning the dried blood off of Alex’s hands. The boy was lucky the scratches weren't deep enough to require stitches. “Lafayette is right, Alex. You should of brought this to our attention sooner.”

“Why didn't you?” John suddenly spoke up, hazel eyes narrowed in confusion and frustration, his voice flat with anger-covered worry. “You knew we would of helped. You knew we wouldn't have been mad. So why didn't you say something?”

Alex lowered his eyes, and after a moment of silence, muttered something under his breath. 

“What was that?” Herc’s mouth mouth set in a firm line of worry, not letting the younger boy get away with anything. Washington stayed silent, allowing the boys to take this one.

Sighing, Alex didn't raise his gaze but did raise his voice. “I said, I’ve dealt with worse by myself. I just didn't want to worry you guys.”

“You’re worrying us more now!” John retorted sharply in frustration, but quieted as Laf shot him a stern look. 

“ _Mon ami_ , we just want to help you,” Laf said softly. “That is all.”

“I know,” Alex murmured, and Washington opened the peroxide bottle to wet a cotton ball. 

“This will sting,” Washington warned, and went in to clean the gashes.

Alex hissed through his teeth as the antiseptic burned, but Washington didn't hesitate as he thoroughly cleaned the wounds. “I’m sorry, son,” he murmured as he pulled away, the now pink tinted cotton ball being disposed of immediately. 

Appearing to swallow a retort to the name, which Washington had realized upset Alex in the past but had accidentally let slip just now, Alex nodded as he exhaled. “I’m okay.” 

“Really, though. If you're hurt or sick or something in the future, just tell us. I’m not kidding here.” Herc’s eyes were serious.

“I will,” Alex muttered as Washington bandaged his hands, the living room descending into an awkward silence none of them would be able to break for an uncomfortably long period of time.

***

No one spoke of that night after it concluded, really. No one wanted to bring the nearly dodged fight over Alex’s self-worth up all over again. But Washington thought of it often, especially in the days following. Two mornings after the brawl, Washington found himself sitting quietly at his desk before class began, eyeing the bandages covering Alex’s hands (which had been rewrapped by Washington the night before) and watching his classroom with a detached sense of weariness.

But, those thoughts were instantly scattered when Thomas Jefferson sauntered in through the classroom door. He wore an obviously new and painfully expensive jacket, a sickly color of maroon, as he promptly perched himself on a desk. 

“Attention!” he declared dramatically in an exaggerated Southern accent, James Madison shuffling into the room behind him with a flat, bored expression on his face and a tissue in his hand. “The world has resumed spinning, the sun has once again rose, ‘cause I am _back_ , bitc-”

“Good morning, Mr. Jefferson,” Washington cut in smoothly.

Thomas froze, suddenly realizing Washington was in the room. He let out a sheepish laugh, taking a moment to rearrange his words and thoughts. After a second of silence, he gave an innocent grin. “Oh, hi Mr. Washington! Good morning, sir!”

Nodding in slight amusement, Washington smiled faintly. Thomas had been off in France for a three week vacation, and if Washington had said that he hadn't enjoyed the lack of drama in the classroom while Thomas was gone he would have been lying through his teeth. 

Across the room, the four boys watched Thomas distastefully. Herc and John had always been against the idea of the boy, while Laf and Thomas had developed a fragile friendship years ago that had withered down to pretty much nothing by now but had left Lafayette with a tendency to give Thomas the benefit of the doubt, and new, inexperienced Alex just looked confused but curious.

“So, who’s that?” the new boy asked in a low voice, simply wondering. 

“The complete idiot we call Thomas Jefferson,” John responded in a dry tone, arms crossed over his chest and shooting daggers in the direction of the new arrival.

“He is not that bad,” Lafayette defended, but Herc shook his head. 

“Ignore Frenchie,” he advised Alex quietly. “You don't want to mix with Jefferson.”

Alex had just finished asking why this was when he attracted a certain teenager’s attention. His gaze landing on the new boy, Thomas immediately narrowed his eyes in interest. Sauntering over, he leaned against Alex’s desk smoothly, his poof of hair fluffing out and then resettling with the motion. 

“And who would _you_ be?” he asked, arching an eyebrow and completely ignoring the others as he looked Alex up and down. Washington, unknown by the group, watched in amusement from his desk, sure this would be a show.

__“Ours,” John growled, tensing at Jefferson’s very appearance._ _

__“Relax, Laurens,” Thomas said flatly, not taking the time to even look at the mentioned boy. “We’re just talking.”_ _

__“Chill,” Herc hissed at John. “He’s not worth it.”_ _

__Thomas nodded solemnly, his eyes lazily flickering over to to the protective teenager. “John, really,” he drawled. “Chill.”_ _

__“Herc!” John hissed through his teeth, but Hercules shook his head firmly._ _

__“No,” he insisted._ _

__Alex, who had simply been sitting there blankly, spoke up. “Uh, I’m Alex.”_ _

__Thomas rose his eyebrows in surprise, his gaze snapping back to the small teenager. “So he can talk for himself,” he mused, getting more comfortable on the desk. “Now what’re you doing hanging around with these three? Don't you know them? Or at least _of_ them?”__

____Suddenly, Washington knew Alex was realizing the general idea of Thomas, the teacher’s amusement at the situation fading fast. The smaller boy’s eyes narrowed._ _ _ _

____“And why shouldn't I be around these guys?” he returned levelly. Washington tensed, knowing that the conversation was quickly taking a turn for the worse._ _ _ _

____Thomas snorted, ignoring John’s livid stare, Herc’s required physical restraining of the livid John and Lafayette frozen in the middle of the first two boys and the exchange between Thomas and Alex. The entire classroom seemed to be holding it’s breath, most of the students’ conversations dying down until the passive aggressive discussion was the only one heard. Whether the involved boys realized they were suddenly at the center of attention or not, Washington wasn't sure._ _ _ _

____Thomas leaned further against the desk, closer to Alex. “You’re an innocent one, aren't you?” he asked flippantly, but with an undertone of near excitement at the fact that he knew something Alex didn't._ _ _ _

____“Not quite,” Alex bit back._ _ _ _

____Sighing, Thomas straightened his jacket. His movements were almost overly casual. “They will get you _nowhere_ ,” he drawled in explanation, apparently not caring that the mentioned boys were right beside him. Washington suddenly knew that there was no way this would end well, a sinking feeling in his gut about what was going to come next with no way of stopping it in time. “From what I’ve heard about you, you've got potential. But these three?” He shook his head dismissively. “They have none. Hercules is a juvenile delinquent, Lafayette is an orphan charity case and John is a gay with a homophobic, abusive father. You don't want them as friends, kid. Trust me.”___ _

______Time stopped in the classroom for just a moment, as if the space itself had frozen mid-breath._ _ _ _ _ _

______Then a sickening crack exploded across the room as Alex’s fist collided with Thomas’ nose, and time was suddenly moving very quickly once again._ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that just happened. 
> 
> I thought we needed a little bit of physical angst, considering until now the angst has been very much mental and emotional. So, this chapter was born.
> 
> Also, cause I'm a curious little writer, how'd you guys find this fic? If you don't feel like telling me, just read, smile, and go on with your day, but if you liked this chapter, story, or wanna tell me how you stumbled across this work, leave a comment! I love comments! Comments are great! But seriously, I would really appreciate it. I've gotten some wonderful feedback so far, so thank you so much for that as well! 
> 
> See you guys next week!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington and Alex talk about the fight, and then the Revolutionary squad has a very deep heart to heart.
> 
> Fun stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! So, here's the next chapter... there's just a lot of talking and heart to hearts and explanations in here, but I think I ended up making all the dialogue bearable. Tell me how I did in the comments! 
> 
> Next chapter up next Friday, probably! 
> 
> Thanks for reading and enjoy!

Washington was on his feet and stepped between the two boys nearly instantly, his many years of teaching causing him to act on instinct rather than conscious thought. It was as if the frozen classroom had suddenly been flung into motion again, many things happening at once. Thomas was looking at Alex with a stunned expression and holding his miraculously not bleeding but likely very sore nose in betrayal. Meanwhile Alex hissed through his teeth and shook out his already injured hand, the bandages already being stained with a bright red from the damaged skin being pulled. Lafayette had just frozen, his expression shocked, while Herc fretted by Alex’s side in an attempt to make sure the small teenager was alright (never mind Thomas’ jabs, Alex was his top priority) and John just stared in a mix of embarrassment and fury. 

The students uninvolved in the fight were suddenly everywhere, trying to get closer to the action and yelling to their friends about what had happened. Maybe they were concerned for the boys, maybe they were excited about the turn of events, maybe they were simply curious about what was going on, but basically they were just making the already chaotic scene even worse. 

Washington, on the other hand, was instantly and extremely furious. That much was not open to interpretation. 

He was a commanding force in the insanity erupting in his classroom, and used that power to silence everyone immediately with a startlingly loud yell for calm. The uninvolved students froze in their movement, knowing Washington was not a good person to be around while he was mad, while the boys that had been in the fight simply shut their mouths and awaited what was to come to them. 

Clenching his jaw in order to control his anger, Washington closed his eyes and savored the eerily thick silence for a moment in order to get a hold of himself. Then, his eyes opening slowly, he let out a small breath. Still, no one spoke, the students looking up at him with sudden fear. 

“Lafayette, take Thomas to the nurse’s office. Thomas, I will deal with you later,” he growled through his teeth, just keeping his voice level a near impossible feat. 

Laf nodded immediately, putting a hesitant hand on Thomas’ back. Although his expression was slack with shock that Thomas would have said something like that, it just wasn't in his nature to lash out and Washington knew this. But, that didn't mean he wasn't mad. So, after whispering “ _Viens_ ,” as he ushered the other boy away, he stayed eerily, deadly silent.

“Alexander,” Washington said in a dangerously quiet voice. “Hall. Now.”

Looking worried but not exceptionally apologetic, Alex stepped away from Herc and strode into the hall. Washington took another breath before following. 

Once the two left the room, the students exploded into chatter. Pulling the other boy away from the crowd, Herc looked at John worriedly. He set a firm hand on the other boy’s shoulder as he searched his face, grounding his friend to the moment. “Hey, you okay, man?” he asked quietly, knowing sensitive John was to mentions of his father, especially in front of that many people, and worried by the silence that had settled over the teenager. 

John shook his head no, which Hercules had been partly expecting. Then, he let out a breath in an obvious attempt to calm down and looked at Herc. In classic John style, his eyes were rimmed with more anger than anything else, but Herc knew the fury was just covering up the embarrassment and humiliation. John shifted, his hazel eyes holding the other teenager’s dark brown gaze. “How about you?”

Hercules shrugged, trying to pass off the humiliating declaration as something that wasn't nearly as big of a deal as it actually was. “Yeah, I guess. It just looks like I’ll be explaining that chapter of my life to Alex a little sooner than planned.”

The two boys stood in quiet for a moment, allowing the endless talk of the other students to fill their silence. Then, John pressed his lips into a thin line. Looking back at Herc, he raised an eyebrow. “Just to be clear, if Alex hadn't beat us to it, we would have totally pummeled Thomas, right?”

Hercules didn't hesitate. “Definitely.”

***

Washington followed Alex out into the hallway, a million thoughts and a million perspectives and a million concepts writhing around his mind. Which ones would take action, he had no idea. The boy they were all centered around looked up at Washington in a mix of fear and defiance, as if the two opposing emotions were mixed in the oddest way.

“What was that?” Washington asked, his voice low and deadly. He saw no point in beating around the bush. Standing a few feet from the door in the empty hallway, towering over Alex and trying to push his anger down from where it was threatening to boil over, Washington couldn't help but think about all the times he had been in this situation before. Only, for most of them, he had been in Alex’s position. 

Even that concept wasn't enough to calm him down.

Immediately after Washington had spoken, Alex was talking. Talking as in speeding through his sentences in a way only minds like his could, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a extremely fast paced yet perfectly planned fashion. For once in the boy’s life, Washington knew Alex’s mind and brain were in synch. “Okay, so I know violence isn't supposed to be the answer and all but you _heard_ Jefferson and you cannot tell me that punching that jerk was not justified because he insulted John, Herc, and Laf all in one sentence and yeah, I’m new around here, but these guys pulled me into their group _instantly_ and if you don't expect me to defend them with my life now that I’m one of them then you are _sorely_ mistaken-”

“Alex,” Washington cut in, his tone one of steel. The boy quieted immediately, coughing as he finished speaking. Washington’s anger was somehow beginning to simmer down in the way only Alex could seem to provoke, an involuntary response which the teacher had mixed feelings about. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to send you to the principal’s office for this. We’ll allow him to get the full story, but be sure to mention the fight was provoked. Start at the beginning, tell him everything. Be honest, be polite, use words the way I know you can, and it will play out in your favor.”

“I’m not sorry.”

Sighing, Washington rubbed a hand over his face. Oh, Lord. Although, as a teacher, he knew that Alex was at fault for resulting to violence under verbal provocation, as a father he was drawn to congratulate Alex for a job well done. If he was being painfully honest with himself, he would of punched Thomas too if he had been in Alex’s place. Hell, he _had_ been in Alex’s place before, years ago, and if he remembered correctly he had done a whole hell of a lot worse than one punch.

“Let’s not mention that to the principal,” Washington advised wearily in response to the boy, his hard stare beginning to soften.

Alex swallowed, dark eyes cautious yet firm. “I do apologize for punching Jefferson in your classroom, though. I should have waited until we were off school grounds.”

“I will agree with that.” Washington sighed, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked down at Alex. “But, in the confidence of this hallway, I will tell you that you are now a hero to my foster son along with Hercules and John.”

As Alex flushed, Washington suddenly was pulled back down to earth. His frown returned. “I am going to tell you one more thing before I send you off to the principal’s office, though. Violence is _never_ the answer. Take it from someone that suffered from anger issues, years ago.” Those few years were absolutely littered with bad memories for Washington, but he had learned from them, and that's what he considered important. He had hesitated, wondered if it would be best to tell Alex about that chapter of his life, but in the end, he decided Alex would only benefit from it. 

The boy was young and inexperienced in some ways, but so old and worn down in others, that Washington wasn't sure what side would take charge as Alex got older. But, the two sides could most certainly end in disaster if allowed to clash. So Washington knew he would do everything to make sure that didn't happen. And maybe, telling the boy a touch of his past was on the road to guaranteeing that. “With violence, someone always gets hurt in the end,” he continued in order to pull himself back into the moment, pointedly eyeing the bandages covering Alex’s hands. The boy gingerly put his hands in his pockets in a self-conscious manner. 

Sighing as he gathered his thoughts, the teacher studied Alex with a careful eye. Taking in the way the boy’s lips parted as if in preparation to go off on another organized tangent, the brow lowered in apprehension, the intelligent, intelligent eyes. He stalled on Alex’s eyes, locking gazes with the boy. “Words cut deeper than a knife when used properly. Remember that, son.” His tone was firm with experience.

“I’m not your son,” Alex said quietly, not looking away. It was almost daunting, intimidating, the stubborn way he held the man’s gaze.

Nodding in submission, Washington sighed and gestured down the hall in a way of trying to diffuse the deep atmosphere the conversation had taken on. He broke eye contact with the boy. “Of course, Alex. Now, I’m sure Mr. Jefferson will meet you at the principal’s office. Good luck, and please, keep your temper in check.”

Alex took a breath as he nodded and began walking towards his fate, coughing into his elbow as he did so. Washington made a mental note of the boy’s cough, deciding he would be keeping an eye on that in the future. But, before Alex could get very far, the boy stopped and glanced back at the teacher. He hesitated for a long moment before sighing. “Thank you, Mr. Washington,” he called softly over his shoulder, expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. 

Washington couldn't stifle the smile that came to his face at that. 

“Any time, Alex.”

***

In the end, both Thomas and Alex got a day of in-school suspension. Because no one was truly hurt and both boys were at fault, everyone found this to be justified and Alex considered himself to have gotten off easy. So, the physical part of the fight was quickly resolved. The verbal part, however, took some time. 

The evening of the fight, the boys met up at Mount Vernon as usual. But, even though the situation was familiar, no one could deny the awkward atmosphere that had settled over the group from the events of the day. A tense half hour into a randomly chosen movie, Herc sighed and reached for the remote, ready to face the elephant in the room. The other boys watched him warily.

Shifting on the couch, Hercules turned to Alex with a mirthless smile that didn't reach his eyes. The light from the paused movie casted an artificial glow across his serious expression, the only light source in the otherwise darkened room, the blue light faintly eerie. Alex sat very still on the couch cushions a few feet away from Hercules, John to his left and Lafayette sitting between Herc and Alex. 

“Listen, I know Jefferson said some stuff today,” Herc started, his tone low yet set. His gaze settled on Alex’s, the dark hues reflecting of the limited light. “Some stuff about all of us. And you deserve to know what he was talking about, Alex.”

“Herc,” John interrupted softly, hazel eyes flickering between Alex and the larger teenager pointedly, “are you sure? This is kind of heavy stuff for someone who just moved here, like, two weeks ago.”

Nodding, Hercules sighed. “Yeah, I’m sure. You don't have to tell him your stories, but I’m going to tell him mine. It's a process, guys. Y’all know that already.”

“You don't have to tell me if you-” Alex tried immediately, but was shushed by Herc’s hard stare. He coughed as he finished, but quieted. 

“Alex, you deserve to know, especially when you full out punched Jefferson over it. I _want_ to tell you, kid.” Herc’s dark brown eyes were firm. 

“As long as you want to,” Alex murmured. 

Hercules nodded and sighed, his ever present beanie perched on his head and catching the t.v. lighting. “Okay. So, Jefferson was right about me. When I was twelve, I got in with a bad group of guys. They pressured me into shoplifting an electronics store; breaking in in the middle of the night, stealing a few t.v.s and getting the hell out of there. I was caught and arrested immediately. So yeah, I’m a juvenile delinquent. I was put into juvie for ten days before my trial, where I was charged but released considering it wasn't entirely my fault.” 

Pausing to frown, Herc sat with his clasped hands between his knees. “As you might guess, I don't really advertise this. No one really knows about the whole thing, but Jefferson… Jefferson got a hold of this a few years ago and he’s held it over my head ever since. I'm just glad he let it spill to you and no one else.” Hercules shook his head. “Laf and John pulled me in with them and out of the peer pressure. We’ve been together since we were all twelve. So, yeah. There’s my story.” He spared a slightly nervous glance at Alex, his expression betraying his worries. “You okay with all this?”

Alex nodded, but his gaze was on the floor. He hesitated for a moment before speaking, as if he was trying to figure out the right thing to say. “Of course I am. But man, Herc, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, none of that,” Hercules said immediately, his tone firm. “It was a long time ago, and it lead me to these two, so I’m fine. But yeah, Jefferson wasn't lying. But there's one good thing that came from it.” He twitched a smile. “At least this whole I’m-a-juvenile-delinquent thing makes a great story.”

“True,” Alex chuckled, his gaze finally straying from the floor to meet Herc’s eyes.

The older teenager frowned slightly again, analyzing Alex’s decidedly neutral expression. “You're completely sure this is okay by you? It's kind of a lot to take in, I know.”

“Oh, yes. Positive,” Alex assured quickly. 

“Jefferson wasn’t lying about me either,” John suddenly spoke up, avoiding all gazes and startling the other three boys. “You punched Jefferson for me along with punching Jefferson for Herc and Laf. You’ve got to know my story as well.”

Alex tensed. “John, you really don't have to tell me if you don't want to, I get it, really-”

“Shh, _mon ami_ ,” Lafayette whispered to Alex, his tone somewhat excited that John was deciding to share this particular story with someone so new. He leaned close to the smaller teenager in order to be heard. “When John makes up his mind, he does not change it. Do not discourage him from telling you something he struggles with.” He gestured to the guarded expression on the boy's face. “This is a sign of trust, something he does not give easily. Allow him to give it to you.”

John sighed heavily, hair pulled away from his face, and redirected Alex’s attention. His gaze stayed focused on the ground, as if he found it easier to do that than to meet Alex’s worried but inquisitive eyes. “If you didn't know this already, I am gay. My dad’s homophobic and seriously doesn't approve. He never approved of me in general, really. Even while he was convinced I was straight.” John let out a weak, mirthless chuckle. The other boys were silent. “My mom died when I was really young and he was just never the same after. He was verbally abusive for years, and I took the brunt of it for my younger siblings. But when I was twelve, when I came out as gay, he hit me for the first time.” John swallowed hard, his voice dropping. “Like, really, actually hit me.”

“John-” Alex tried softly, but Lafayette shushed him instantly.

“I told my abuela that he had beat me in order to protect my siblings, and she got us out of South Carolina and to Virginia immediately. That's how I ended up here.” John tucked a stray piece of hair behind his ear as he quieted, hazel eyes still refusing to meet anyone else’s gaze and stubbornly staying on the ground.

“John has not seen or spoken to his father in nearly four years,” Lafayette explained quietly, shifting his position on the couch in the momentary quiet that followed John’s story. 

John sighed again, his gaze finally flickered up to meet Alex’s. The hazel hues flashed with determination, the emotion behind them somewhat staggering. “It sucked, yeah. It still sucks, yeah. But I’m okay. We’ve all had really shitty lives, you included, it looks like. But we’re all okay, alright?”

Nodding, Alex got the feeling that John was referring to more than one thing with this somewhat cryptic assurance. He met the boy’s eyes briefly as well before looking away. “Yeah, I know. I can tell.” 

Shifting, Herc gave Alex a more upbeat smile, attempting to lighten the mood. “Well, there it all is. Sorry we didn't tell you sooner-”

“That is not all,” Laf interrupted softly. “You and John have explained your stories. I have not.”

“Do you want to?” Alex asked cautiously, making sure Laf wasn't being pressured into anything. He understood how it could have happened, with Laf being the only one who hadn't told his story yet, and wanted to confirm that wasn't what was going on.

Sighing, Lafayette looked at Alex with a sad smile. “Yes, I do. Jefferson said I was an orphan charity case, _oui_?”

Alex nodded regretfully, looking tentative. He coughed into his elbow as the story started. 

Laf let out a weak chuckle. “Well, he was not wrong.”

“Laf!” John chastised. 

“I am speaking the truth,” the Frenchman defended himself, his long legs folded underneath him. “My immediate family all passed when I was young. The Washingtons were old family friends of ours, they took me in immediately while they had previously never thought of fostering a child. But they are my family now. I would never have changed what happened to me.”

“Nevertheless, Jefferson is full of shit,” Herc told him firmly, stubborn tone unallowing of any sort of self doubt. “You've got the Washingtons, and you've got us. You are not an orphan charity case. You're our Lafayette now.”

Smiling slightly, Laf squeezed his boyfriend’s shoulder before pulling away. “ _Je sais_ , Hercules. But little Alex deserves to know what he was fighting for. ”

“Well, I was fighting for you guys,” Alex intervened softly, speaking up for the first time in a while with tentative, quiet words that somehow managed to hold a determined undertone. He met all of the boys’ gazes for a few moments each, stalling on John for a second longer before looking away. “I knew that much even then.”

Lafayette grinned contentedly at Herc and John, a hand resting on Alex’s knee for a moment as a comfortable silence settled over the group. “ _Oui_ , my first impression was correct,” he whispered into the quiet, as if it was fragile, beautiful thing he could not stand to break but still had a very good reason to risk it. His smile was heard in his voice. “He is a keeper after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank you again for all the comments and kudos, I appreciate every last one of them so much. If you liked, pretty please leave me a comment and let me know! Thanks!
> 
> See you guys next week!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington and the boys get worried about Alex. 
> 
> It turns out their worries are well founded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Chapter six here. I think this may be the angstiest chapter yet. 
> 
> Beta'd by Jaysong, as always! And, also, just know that I am sorry about this chapter. You'll find out why soon. 
> 
> Next chapter Friday, and enjoy!

Once the makeshift family got through those few eventful days, the action began to level out. Washington and Martha continued to keep a careful eye on Alex, but ever since the fight with Lee and Seabury, the other boys had taken to watching over the younger boy at well. Although the agreement that Alex needed protection was never especially spoken of, Washington noticed and was grateful for the boys’ help. Now, as long as one of the boys or one of the Washingtons was with him, Alex was safe wherever he went. 

So, it was very quickly noticed by them all when Alex’s cough persisted and worsened over the next week, elevating from an occasional throat clearing to full out hacking fits several times a day.

Washington especially was worried by this, watching in concern as Alex began harshly coughing daily in his class. Martha heard his fits at Mount Vernon, the boys watched worriedly during the school day and at the Washingtons. It was very clear that Alex was sick, but no matter how much they all pestered him to stay home and rest or ask his foster father to take him to a freaking Urgent Care, the small teenager refused. Said he was fine, said he would be okay in a few days. But, one class period about a week after the coughing started, Washington drew the line. 

It was a particularly cool fall day, first period, as Washington was lecturing about American economics and pacing the front of the classroom. It was then that Alex began having a coughing fit worse than most. Washington, by this point used to the coughing, attempted to pay it no mind, but then the fit persisted and persisted, causing most of the students to glance in Alex’s direction in concern or disgust. Thomas especially sent dirty looks Alex’s way, touching his nose self-consciously and exchanging hateful looks with James Madison. Alex’s coughing fit continued anyway. Washington’s lecture faltering, he finally stopped pacing and sighed. 

“Mr. Hamilton,” he called, looking at Alex with a mix of empathy and concern. 

“Yes?” Alex managed to get out between coughs, pretending that he wasn't currently likely to hack up a vital organ. 

Sighing again, Washington gestured to the hall. “Please, go to the nurse’s office. You're sick, son.”

“I’m _fine_ -” he tried to insist as he caught his breath again, the coughing fit finally subsiding, but was interrupted by John. 

“I’ll take him,” the teenager offered flatly.

Nodding, Washington crossed his arms over his chest. “Please.”

John got to his feet and nearly forcibly towed Alex from the room, allowing Washington to continue his lecture in worried but quiet peace. 

***

The moment the door closed behind them, John had whirled on Alex and pressed a firm hand to his forehead. 

“Hey!” Alex protested weakly, his voice hoarse from coughing as he attempting to duck away, but John had already realized how unhealthily warm Alex’s skin was. Alex watched on guiltily.

Taking a step back, John crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Alex. “You're burning up.”

“I'm fine.”

“Dude, you’ve got a _fricking fever_ , which is so high you have to had known already, and you still didn't say anything?! I thought we already had this conversation! If you're sick, if you're hurt, you _tell us_.”

Alex glared at John, shivering as he wrapped his arms around his body. “Okay, I might have a low grade fever or something, but I'm okay, really. Just give me a few more days-”

“We already gave you a few more days!” John retorted angrily, finding it easier to be mad than show his actual concern. “Don't think we haven't noticed you coughing up a lung every five minutes! You’re _sick_ , Alex. Just accept it.”

“John-”

“ _No_!” John exploded, finally reaching his limit with Alex’s fake reassurances. “You may be new, but we care about you! We are not letting you sit there getting sicker and sicker and not do anything about it! So we are going to that nurse’s office and getting you home. _Now_.” John’s eyes were on fire, breathing heavily with a few strands of curly hair shaken loose from his ponytail to frame his face.

Alex stared at the other boy, stunned into submission. “Okay,” he said quietly, dark eyes searching John’s hazel gaze for any indication why the teenager had just blown up. And although he found nothing but anger, he had the strangest feeling that John was using this anger to shield his worry. Alex knew that technique. He had used that technique, many times. 

Nodding in dull satisfaction but still looking mildly mad, John began leading the way to the nurse's office. Alex followed behind quietly, not saying a word.

***

John returned to class once Alex was settled and waiting for his foster father to pick him up, the younger boy seeming quiet and nervous when John left the office. Washington noticed John’s reappearance immediately as the teenager slipped back into the classroom, his lecture not faltering this time but also noting Alex’s absence. John sat in silence until the bell rang, his expression determinedly neutral, and then the teenager and Washington were making their way to each other immediately. The rest of the students filed out, Hercules and Laf waiting for John outside the door. 

“How bad is he?” Washington asked John in a low voice, both of them immediately knowing that he was talking about Alex. They stood facing in each other in front of Washington’s desk, alone in the empty classroom. 

John clenched his jaw, eyes once again blazing. “103.1 degree fever.”

Washington stared at the teenager, stunned. John was quite a few inches shorter than Washington, but his gaze was so intense it made up for the height difference. 

“103.1 degree fever and he didn't even say anything about it until the nurse saw those damn numbers on the thermometer and nearly fainted. What is _wrong_ with that kid?!” John demanded, looking worried and frustrated and overwhelmed all at once. Washington knew that John had a tendency to turn to anger rather than facing emotion, and that tendency was definitely making itself known now. But, even though a stranger may have mistaken John for being furious, the teacher knew the boy far too well for that misconception. John was completely panicking.

Washington let out a breath, taking this information in. “I assume the nurse is having Alex’s foster father take him to a doctor?” he asked levelly, grounding John’s worry with structure and calm. He had been around John enough that Washington knew composure and firm yet gentle questions and distractions was the way to bring the boy out of his downward spiral. Sure enough, this technique worked relatively quickly, and John let out a breath as his frustration simmered down.

“Yeah, that's what she told us. I stuck around until they made me leave. But really, why didn't he say something?” Now John was sounding wounded, his anger finally subsiding to reveal what he actually was feeling. “Doesn't he… doesn't he trust us?”

Sighing, Washington swallowed as he organized his thoughts and decided what would be safe to tell John. As much as he wanted to reassure and comfort the boy, he had Alex’s privacy to consider as well. “You must understand,” he said quietly, slowly, “that Alex has walked a very very hard road all his life. You mustn't blame him for hiding sickness from us. It’s simply an instinct for him now.”

John bit his lip, being uncharacteristically vulnerable. Even though Washington was worried about Alex, he couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth that John trusted him enough to put down his guard in the empty classroom. For John, that was big. 

“One of us will call him tonight, to check up on him and make sure he’s okay. I’ll ask Laf to keep you and Martha updated.” John swallowed hard, glancing towards the clock. “I’ve got to get going. I'll be late for my next class.”

Before he could leave, Washington settled a gentle hand on John’s shoulder. The boy’s eyes flashed up to the teacher’s face immediately, somewhat startled.

“Thank you, John,” he said softly, holding the boy’s gaze. “You’re a wonderful friend to us all.”

Nodding and still attempting to swallow his emotion, John tried to smile and failed. But the effort was noticed and appreciated. “Thanks, Mr. Washington.” 

Smiling back with a tinge of sadness, Washington released the boy and let him hurry off to his next class. He heard John talking to Lafayette and Herc in a low voice about Alex as they walked away, the teacher heading back to his desk to prepare for next period. 

He wasn't surprised that Alex had hid his illness from them, but he did feel badly for John, who simply couldn't understand why Alex didn't talk to them like they talked to each other. Washington was sure that would be a milestone they would eventually reach, but for now, he simply had to take care of his boys and continue to keep an especially constant eye on Alex. 

As constant as they could manage. 

***

The next day, Washington had fully expected not to see Alex for quite some time. Although the small teenager hadn't answered the phone when the boys had tried to call him the night before, Washington just knew that Alex would be too sick to show up for class. He had a high fever, a bad cough, and a tendency to zone out during classes, something that was not typical for the boy. There was literally no way that he would be well enough to come to school.

So when Alexander Hamilton stumbled in through his classroom door, Washington was stunned. 

The boy looked even worse than the day before. His hair was unbrushed and loose, his face flushed with darker circles than usual under his eyes. Alex tripped his way over to his desk, sinking into the chair with a sigh. Immediately, the boys pounced. 

“What the hell are you doing here?!” Herc demanded. He put one hand on the desk, leaned forward and looked over Alex critically, dark brown eyes firm but extremely worried. Mother hen as always, Hercules looked ready to drag the kid out of the school himself any minute now.

“‘M fine,” Alex murmured. Usually, he would be squirming uncomfortably or trying to make a getaway under the focused attention, but now he barely even looked at Hercules.

Stepping closer, Lafayette stroked Alex’s hair gently and pursed his lips. Laf tended to be very tactile when he was worried about something, especially when he was worried about _someone_ , and Alex was no exception. “ _Mon ami_ , look at yourself. You are not well,” he said softly, his hand lightly, absently working out the tangles in Alex’s dark hair. 

Alex didn't even bother responding that time. 

Then John stalked up, causing both Herc and Laf to quiet at the fury in the teenager’s eyes. Hercules took a step back. Alex looked up at the livid boy with a dulled sense of guilt.

For a long moment, the four just stood there, John shooting daggers at Alex as Hercules and Lafayette just stopped talking and waited for the explosion. But, oddly, the explosion never came. 

“What the _hell_ is wrong with you?” John’s voice was dangerously low, demanding tone centered on Alex. Lafayette’s hand slowed to a stop in the smaller boy’s hair. “You're sick. Oh dear god, you are so, so sick right now. You should _not_ be here, you idiot. Do you need me to drag you back down to that nurse's office? I will, I promise you.” Hazel eyes burning, John refused to look away from the now silent Alex.

At this point, Washington was ready to intervene, but then the bell rang and forced him to the front of the classroom. Alex looked relieved that he was being left alone, John stalking back to his seat as Lafayette and Hercules watched Alex worriedly from their desks across the room.

Washington would send Alex back to the nurse’s office after class, he decided. Students weren't even allowed to come back to school until they were free from fever for 24 hours, so Alex would be forced into going home whether he wanted to or not. If worst came to worst, Washington could always call George King himself and insist he keep Alex home until the boy felt better, or have the nurse do it for him. Hopefully that would fix things once and for all. 

So, Washington began class with a continued lecture in American economics. Although he tried to keep himself in the moment of the speech, he continued to find his gaze drifting back over to Alex, the boy half asleep and looking miserable. But Washington pulled his concern away every time, focusing on what he was speaking about rather Alex’s health. There was nothing he could do now, nothing he could help Alex with until class ended. So he redirected his attention again and again, staying effectively engaged with the lecture. 

Until Alex leaped to his feet and bolted from the room, calling out a weak, hurried apology to Washington as he went. 

Then there was no absolutely hope with keeping his attention on the lecture. 

Before Washington was even aware of what he was doing, he had yelled instructions at Lafayette to hold down the fort and had taken off after Alex. 

***

Washington hurried after the boy, using instinct and the sound of hasty footsteps to know where Alex was heading. Darting through the hallways, he paid no attention to random students’ bewildered looks and continued to follow after Alex. The teacher finally skidded to a stop in front of the nearest men’s bathroom, where the hurried footsteps had stopped. Alex must have gone in, Washington quietly realized, as he stood there breathing heavily and staring at the door with a frosted window. 

Washington honestly had no idea what he was doing. He should have sent another student after Alex, or called the nurse and then gone to check on him. He shouldn’t have acted so quickly and irrationally, shouldn't have left the students alone in the classroom, shouldn't be this emotionally invested in a boy he had known barely two weeks. No, this whole thing had not been his best idea, not by a long shot. 

But. But, now he was here. And there was no point in not helping the sick kid now he was here. So, although it was hard, he pushed away the worrying thoughts and stepped into the bathroom. 

He was immediately hit with the stench of vomit (something he had learned to handle after so many years of teaching), and then the sight of an exhausted Alex leaning heavily against the white tile wall of the bathroom. Crossing the room with several long strides, Washington was soon by the teenager’s side. 

“Alex,” he said urgently, noting the empty bathroom and the white noise of a freshly flushed toilet in the background. His thoughts sped, but he attempted to stay in control of his mind. “Alexander. What happened?”

The boy was slumped against the wall, dark hair falling into his face and expression weakly embarrassed. Washington figured the boy knew he was about to throw up and raced from his classroom because of it, made it to the toilet before he vomited, and went to leave the bathroom before finding he was too weak to. But now… he was worse than Washington had even dared to guess. There was absolutely no way this could end well.

“‘M fine,” he muttered quietly, faintly. 

“No, son, you're not,” Washington corrected, hovering by the boy’s side. He had been with Lafayette many a time while the kid was sick, but he wasn't sure how to react with Alex. For one, they were in a school, in which Washington worked as a teacher and to which Alex attended as a student. Another matter to consider was that yes, Washington knew Alex outside of school, but had only for a short amount of time. And although his immediate instinct was to take care of Alex as he would Lafayette, Washington was unsure if that would be appropriate. So, he decided to just wait and see what would be necessary. 

Alex sighed as he allowed the cool, white wall to take on more of his weight, coughing weakly as he did so and his eyes fluttering closed. “‘M fine,” he repeated, as if he was trying to convince himself along with Washington. His breathing was fast and shallow, as if he couldn't get a full breath in.

Frowning, Washington took in Alex’s flushed skin and cracked lips. Knowing the boy would object if he asked first and deciding to take a risk in order to get a temperature estimate, Washington gently set a hand on the boy’s forehead. The tan skin was extremely warm, nearly uncomfortable to the touch, and horribly dry. Washington was able to realize that much in the short amount of time he was able to collect observations. 

Why he was only able to get an estimate for a short amount of time? Well, not expecting the contact and not seeing the hand approaching him, Alex reacted in the only way he knew. Getting away as quickly as possible. So the boy attempted to spring away from Washington on instinct, his eyes snapping open and not allowing Washington the time to react. 

Unfortunately, Alex had ceased to consider how weak he was before he attempted to jerk from Washington, and suddenly went down extremely fast. His knees buckled beneath him as he collapsed.

“God!”

Before Washington even thought out what he was doing, he had caught the suddenly unconscious boy and was lowering him to the bathroom floor. The teacher’s heart was pounding with shock and concern and adrenaline, fighting to take a full breath without faltering. 

Now Washington was panicking, attempting to keep his thoughts calm but not succeeding with much. Alex had quite literally just passed out from trying to move quickly; something had to be seriously wrong with the teenager. And, oh Lord above, if something happened to Alex-

Washington stopped his train of thought right there, knowing he had to stay in the moment. Gently holding a hand to the boy’s forehead again, Washing confirmed that the boy definitely had a fever, feeling much higher than even 103 now. His breathing was fast paced and shallow, and as Washington picked up the boy’s wrist, his pulse was racing. To finish off the sudden surplus in frightening symptoms, Washington’s attention was drawn to the sudden blue tint to the boy’s lips. This kid needed a hospital, and soon.

As soon as possible.

“Alright, Alex, you’re going to be okay,” the teacher breathed, trying to reassure them both. Washington felt supremely guilty for being the reason Alex had panicked and therefore lost consciousness. He shouldn't have even come into contact with the boy without Alex’s permission, rightly judging that Alex wouldn't have allowed a fever check anyway but still, getting into an argument would have been so much better than _this_. 

Washington found himself chewing on his lip as he worried, something that hadn't been a habit of his since high school. Odd, how old, nearly forgotten habits reappeared at the strangest of moments. The tic had been a result of his father’s death, a nervous habit that distracted him from the stressful situation at hand. A nervous habit that was the result of having to grow up just a touch too fast. He had grown out of it, of course, but now his lip was between his teeth nearly unconsciously. 

The boy on the floor before him had also been forced grown up a just bit too quickly. The horrors of this boy’s short childhood Washington didn't even want to imagine. 

Suddenly, Washington’s attention was drawn to a dark bruise spreading up across Alex’s collarbone and neck, distracting him from his train of thought. That hadn't been there yesterday, he knew, and a uneasy feeling settled into him. Carefully, Washington hooked his index finger over the collar of Alex’s shirt and stretched the fabric to see the rest of the bruise. 

Oh. Oh, Lord.

And, right here, was plain evidence of a kid having to grow up way too fast. 

A network of dark bruises, various ages and levels of seriousness, mapped out across Alex’s chest, ribs, stomach. Some were brand new, others a few weeks old. The amount of _pain_ that kid had to have been in on a daily basis was staggering, the level of commitment it must have taken for him to not wince, not say anything, not give any indication at all that he was hurt. Washington knew, instantly and deeply, that this was no accident. This was intentional harming of a fifteen-year-old boy.

The obvious, the _oh-so-obvious_ conclusion was reached in Washington’s mind almost immediately. 

George King. 

This was all King. The bruising, the abuse Alex no doubt experienced, the illness, the fever, the cough the unconsciousness the jumpiness the worrying the collapsing _Alex’s inability to just be happy_. All King. 

And Washington had just stood by and let it happen. 

He had watched Alex at school and at Mount Vernon, yes. But he had still let Alex go home to that man every single night. He had even sent him home early the day before. He had allowed Alex to be alone with King, let the child fend for himself yet again. He had consoled himself that he was doing everything he could, keeping Alex safe from afar, watching the teenager as if to make sure King didn't set a finger on him, as if he would somehow know if the man did. He had known about King’s record, known about Alex’s past. He had known it _all_. 

Yet Washington had still kept Alex in an abusive household with that monster of a man all this time. 

_What the hell kind of father was he?_

Suddenly, the door to the bathroom swung open to reveal a freshman boy standing in the doorway, freezing at the sign of Washington sitting on the bathroom floor with an unconscious boy’s head in his lap. Washington’s eyes snapped up the freshman’s, dark brown gaze intense with panic yet control.

“Son, get the nurse,” Washington commanded instantly. “Bring her here immediately, and please tell her to call 911. Go!”

The freshman, now breaking out of his frozen spell, whirled away from the bathroom so fast he almost lost his balance and sprinted for the direction of the nurse’s office. The door swung shut behind him. 

Washington let out a breath, the realization slamming into him again and again and again. It allowed no mercy, allowed no reconciliation, as the room spun around him. He had failed. Failed Alex, failed Martha, failed the boys, failed _himself_. 

God have mercy.

But, even though he felt like breaking, _Oh Lord he felt as if he would shatter_ , he forced himself to come back into the moment, shaking off the way the world tilted off kilter and the way time appeared to slow. Alex still needed him. And, if Washington ever left that boy on his own again, so help him God he would never forgive himself no matter the circumstances. 

Brushing the boy’s heavy hair out of his face, Washington swallowed hard. Alex had passed out maybe three minutes ago, and had yet to show any sign of coming back around. Those dark brown eyes were closed, exaggerating the dramatically dark circles underneath them. His expression was pained even in unconsciousness. 

Washington swallowed again, continuing to fight back panic. The nurse would be here any moment, he just had to protect Alex until then. And even though he had failed so spectacularly in the past, he would keep this boy safe from this point on out. Dear Lord, he would.

That he promised. 

Taking a deep breath, he fought for control on all planes. He cradled Alex’s head in his lap, sitting on the men’s bathroom floor and feeling as if he should… explain himself, or apologize. What to say to an unconscious boy who he had failed so much?

Finally, Washington just took another breath to combat the panic. There would be time for explanations later. But right now… right now, Alex just needed him to _be there_.

That, at least, he could do.

Hesitating for a moment, Washington moistened his lips and sighed softly. “Hold on, son,” he finally whispered hoarsely, quietly. “Please. Just hold on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh.... whoops? *backs away slowly*
> 
> (If it makes you guys feel better to scream incoherently at me in the comments, go ahead. I don't mind.)
> 
> Next chapter Friday!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang gets some unexpected help from an unexpected person, and John has a rough time with the news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick TW: This chapter does have a bit of a mental breakdown in it. Basically just a cryfest, but if you think it would bother you, please skip this chapter. You are more important than a fanfiction!
> 
> Heya! Next chapter, yay! I am sorry about the last one, and I'm afraid this one isn't much better. Forgive me?
> 
> Beta'd by Jaysong, as always, and next chapter up Friday!
> 
> Enjoy!

Washington ducked through the door of his classroom to find insanity had exploded in the space. 

Hercules and Lee were shouting at each other about something to do with Alex, only restraining from physically fighting because they were in school and even they knew flying at each other would be a bit overkill. John, on the other hand, was literally pressed against a wall by Herc so the latter could argue in peace without having to worry about the former lunging for Lee’s throat. Even then, trapped against the classroom wall, John had resigned to his position but still spat fire at Lee in between Herc’s retorts. Meanwhile, Jefferson had taken it upon himself to literally _leap_ on top of Washington’s desk and try to command for order. The rest of the kids had engaged in conversations or another variety of things, some of the shyer ones hiding behind books and others shooting paper airplanes around the room. The fact that it was Friday and that Monday marked the beginning of the two week long fall break didn't help the students’ restlessness. And then there was just poor Lafayette, who was just darting around the room in a vain attempt to keep everyone controlled. 

Knowing the students, the chaos honestly wasn't that much of a surprise. 

But the moment Washington appeared in the doorway, every student froze immediately in a classroom-wide _oops_ moment. He had been gone maybe twenty minutes, and was less than thrilled with the immaturity of his students, but was not going to take the time to deal with that now. 

Instead, his eyes landed on the three boys he cared about most, all of them staring at him with wide, scared eyes that screamed _Alex_. He swallowed hard, meeting each of their gazes. 

“Laf, John, Herc, come with me,” he said firmly. Immediately, the three boys abandoned their already forgotten activities and were across the room nearly instantly. Lafayette put an arm around both of the others, aching for physical comfort, as they hurried into the hall. Washington looked sternly at the rest of the class, the students suddenly silent. “Stay here until the sub arrives. Try to behave yourselves.” And he left to be with his boys. 

Unfortunately, he had failed to take Thomas Jefferson into account. 

Before he could close the classroom door, the puffy haired teenager had slid out into the hallway with them, literally _sliding_ out across the tile to get out of the room in time. Washington had no time to spare with the boy, instead setting off down the hall with Laf, Herc and John and choosing to ignore the extra teenager. 

“Wait!” Thomas called breathlessly, chasing after the group down the empty hallway. “It’s Alex, isn't it? He’s sick?”

“Yes,” John bit over his shoulder, only refraining from yelling at Jefferson in favor of getting to Alex faster. He could deal with Jefferson later, when Alex’s condition was stable and there was time to spare shouting at idiotic teenager.

But no one was prepared for the next question that was tossed at the group. 

“Hospital?”

Laf looked at Washington in alarm, unsure of the answer to this question. Hercules tensed, also realizing that was a valid question and one he didn't know the response to. Sighing, Washington nodded curtly and avoided eye contact with the boys. He had been hoping this fact would come out a bit more gracefully, but no use lying now. “Yes.”

John’s breath audibly hitched in his throat.

“You won't be able to see him. You're not family.” Thomas was practically jogging to keep up with them at this point. The group refused to slow down nonetheless.

Well, shit. Washington hadn't thought of that. 

“What is it to you?” Herc snapped, his worry for Alex and tenseness about the unknown details of his friend’s condition and annoyance at Jefferson mixing together to form a particularly unpleasant emotion cocktail. “Just get out of here, Jefferson.”

Thomas slowed, panting slightly. He seemed to be nearing giving up, but he tried one last approach. “My mom’s a nurse at Southeast. That’s where they’re taking him, right? She can get you all in.”

At this, Washington stopped. He couldn't help himself. As Washington turned to give Thomas a calculating look, the other boys slowed as well. The teacher watched the boy warily. “What was that?”

Thomas nodded, looking relieved that they were finally listening. “Yeah. She works in the cancer wing, so she won't be treating Alex, but she can put in a good word for you guys and get you in to see him and talk to his doctors considering his actual family isn't really around. I’d just have to text her.”

“And for what price?” Lafayette’s tone was guarded. 

At this, Thomas blushed slightly. He ran a hand through his hair sheepishly. “None. I, uh, I’m sorry, about what I said, a while back. This is my, er, apology?” The last sentence came out sounding more like a question. 

Herc’s brow furrowed in confusion, having never seeing this side of Thomas before and unsure if it was trustworthy. “You’d do that for us?”

Nodding slightly, Thomas took a breath. “Yeah.”

The group was quiet for a moment, taking in this information and trying to figure out if Thomas was being genuine. But, the way the boy watched them skittishly, as if he was terrified they would yell in his face or something else along those lines, it seemed that he was being serious about this. 

Then Washington twitched a small, relieved smile. He and Thomas had a mixed past, yes. But the teacher was willing to give the boy a second chance, especially considering that the boy’s offer was the only chance Washington would be receiving. “That would be wonderful, Thomas.”

“Consider it done.”

Nodding in thank you, Herc and John set off down the hall after Washington, all of them in somewhat shock that Jefferson was being so kind. Herc was just stunned, while John didn't seem to know what to do with this new, empathetic side of the boy. But, at the moment, there was no time to spare on wondering and curiosity. They had to get to Alex, had get out of the school and into the privacy of Washington’s car, had to know exactly what had happened, as soon as physically possible. The boys were nearing insanity not knowing. 

Lafayette, however, stayed for just a moment longer. After a brief hesitation, he threw his arms around Thomas. Stumbling back a few steps in surprise, the other teenager stiffened as Lafayette hugged him tightly. 

Pulling away a few seconds later, Lafayette gave a grateful smile to the other boy. His hands remained on Thomas’ shoulders for just a moment longer. “ _Merci, mon ami_.”

Swallowing, Thomas offered a small, shy smile in response. “Yeah. Yeah, Laf. Anytime.”

***

“What happened?”

The question came in the second after all the car doors were closed, the instant that the four of them were alone. Lafayette rode shotgun, Hercules in the seat behind him as John stared at Washington from the backseat, his gaze even more demanding than his tone. The parked car sat still in the high school parking lot, the asphalt nearly empty except for the cars of the teachers. Considering how early it was, the sky was just subsiding from sunrise to the pale blue of young day. 

Washington took a breath before turning in his seat to face the students, the lingering light from the sunrise throwing their drawn expressions into sharp relief. Spending an extra few minutes explaining the situation before rushing to the hospital wouldn’t hurt Alex in the long run, he knew, and these boys were clearly getting crazy with worry.

Yet, Washington hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to word this. How to explain, how to get through the story without sending the boys into a type of panic very different from the panic of the unknown. 

“Tell us, please,” Herc’s gravelly voice spoke up, tense with worry and concern, and Washington knew that now was the time to speak. He just had to explain. That was it, a simple task. Then they could get to the hospital and see what, exactly, was going to happen next. 

Taking a breath, the older man began. “You saw Alex running from the room,” Washington started quietly, avoiding eye contact. The boys listened in silence, Washington’s soft voice sounding uncomfortably loud in the quiet. “I followed him to the men’s bathroom down the hall. When I entered, I found Alex across the bathroom and using the wall for support, having just thrown up and being extremely weak.” The teacher sighed, the guilt from this part of the story flooding him again. _Shit_ , he should have thought before checking for that damn fever. “I tried to check for a fever without Alex’s consent. He panicked and jerked away, and under the strain of such sudden movement and the instinctive response, he collapsed immediately.” Washington paused to recollect himself.

Second-hand horror wrote its way across Lafayette’s face as Washington spoke, his brow furrowing and lips parting in concern. “Oh, little Alex,” he breathed after a moment of stunned silence, his hands going slack in his lap. John and Hercules were too focused on the story to comfort the other teenager, their intense gazes fixed on Washington. The teacher took another breath, steeling himself. 

“Alex is sick and hurt. King’s been beating him without us realizing it, most likely since Alex arrived. His fever had to have surpassed 103, his breathing and pulse were both so fast it scared me. We called 911, an ambulance came, and Alex was rushed off to Southeast with several paramedics attending to him.” Although quiet, Washington's tone was firm and unemotional, knowing that right now, in front of three worried teenagers with the stress of the day only beginning, was not the time to break. He needed to be strong, needed to be calm, had to be the one confident voicein a chorus of chaos. There would be time for unloading later. “He will be fine, I’m sure. But I don't know what's wrong yet. So, we’ve got to get to the hospital. Thomas’ mother should be able to get us in to speak with his doctors, we’ll check up on Alex, and everything will be okay. Everything is going to be fine.” 

But, as Washington said the words, he realized that even he didn't believe them.

A shocked, numb silence settled over the still car as he finished, as if the air itself was choking on it’s words. No one dared to move for several moments. 

Then Herc swallowed hard, his brow furrowed in concern, as he quietly broke the silence. “That poor kid…” he whispered, rubbing a hand over the  
lower half of his face. 

A few more seconds of quiet followed the murmured statement, as if everyone agreed with Herc’s sentence and could find nothing else to say. 

The silence sunk into them, a thick, uncomfortable silence that refused to give any relief. It was as if the space itself was choking on its words. And, although the silence was simultaneously suffocating all four of the men, gagging them all in a way that made them wanted to destroy it, it remained as if it would never lift again. 

No matter how much they struggled, no one could quite find the right words to break it. 

Until John effectively shattered it with one syllable. 

“Drive.”

The teenager sat stoically still, expression telling nothing. The curt word was directed at Washington, a firm demand that allowed no room for objections.

Now that the silence had finally released its lethal hold on the group, everyone found themselves thankfully able to breathe once again, able to relax. But, as John’s state suddenly took center stage, the three other men found themselves unable to enjoy it. Twisting in his seat, Laf set a light hand on the other teenager’s shoulder as he recognized the tone. “John-” he started softly, voice gentle.

But the other teenager shook him off immediately, his eyes suddenly betraying his extreme worry as Washington watched in concern. The hazel hues flashed with barely concealed panic, even as his expression stayed determinedly set. “I said, drive,” John repeated, his voice cracking in the middle of the sentence, another hint of his true emotions. He leaned forward slightly in the backseat, desperate to be on their way to reach Alex.

“Laurens,” Herc’s tone was warning yet soothing, recognition of John’s thinly veiled emotion flaring in his expression. “Breathe for a second-”

“We’ve got to get to the hospital!” John snapped, his knuckles white over the handle of the car door. “What is _wrong_ with you?! Alex needs us!” Still, no one moved, instead watching John in wary silence as the faintly familiar signs of what was coming played out in the back of Washington’s car. John just seemed to be more frustrated by this. He glared at them furiously as they sat still and staring around him. “What the _hell_ , guys?!” he demanded frantically.

All three other men in the car instantly knew exactly what was happening to John, even if he himself wasn't yet aware. This had happened a few times before, and although though the occasions were few and far between, the three still knew what was needed to be done as they reached a silent agreement in the tense atmosphere of the car. Because Hercules was the closest, he was the one to wrap a firm arm around John and pull the other boy to his chest, effectively restraining the teenager and taking all control from the overwhelmed and frantic boy. Although he hated it then, Hercules knew that the teenager would later thank him for preventing John from doing something he would regret.

Not surprisingly, John fought for a moment as he was seized by a pair of frighteningly strong arms. A fresh wave of panic flooded over him, his eyes suddenly shining with unshed tears as he struggled to get away from Herc. Of course, the larger teenager didn't allow him to do anything, having to watch the boy’s panicked writhing with an apologetic expression on his face. John’s mask of an exterior shattered nearly instantly as his wet eyes flashed, his teeth gritting as he put all his strength into getting away from Hercules. “ _No!_ We have to get to Alex, now! Don't you freaking _get it_?! We need to be be there! Alex is in the damn _hospital_ , and he’s- he’s sick, and hurt, and- and-” and suddenly John was breaking as if he had never been whole in the first place. A sob cutting off his words, he fought weakly for a moment longer before giving in and going limp in Herc’s arms, collapsing against the other boy as Hercules adjusted his grip on John to less of a restraining hold and more of a comforting one. 

Lafayette managed to maneuver himself from the passenger seat to the back nearly instantly. His long limbs folded into place beside John as he buried into the group hug with Herc. Washington silently watched the heart wrenching moment from the driver’s seat, biting his lip hard. 

John was being held by two different pairs of arms, his face crumpling as he sobbed, effectively breaking every heart in the car. Laf ran a gentle hand through the other boy’s ponytail, murmuring in French to the teenager and taking a shuddering breath of his own. Hercules extended his hold to Lafayette as well, keeping the two boys so close it was as if he he was determined to never let a single soul hurt them ever again. 

Washington swallowed hard, watching helplessly as John shattered. He had seen it coming. The teenager was so strong; he had to be, what with he had to go through with his father. But, sometimes, things just got to be too much for him. And when that happened, Herc and Laf took him in like an injured puppy.

But, with the events of the past few days, it was no surprise that John had finally reached his limit. And, when the news was announced that one of his best friends and, potentially, the boy he loved was in the hospital, that limit was suddenly far, far below the poor kid’s currently state.

Thank the Lord above for Herc and Laf’s flawless timing.

John curled into Herc’s shoulder, heart wrenching sobs escaping him as Lafayette pressed into the boy in an attempt to comfort the teenager. Herc sent a meaningful look at Washington over the other boy’s heads, signaling to give them a minute. Washington nodded in return, long been planning on it anyway. His gaze flickered to John pointedly, silently asking if there was anything he could do to help. Hercules twitched a sullen smile in thanks for the offer, but shook his head. He had it covered.

A quiet settled over the parked car, broken only by John’s whimpers. Washington chewed his lip until it was raw. Knowing that Alex had only arrived at the hospital maybe half an hour ago and was probably still undergoing testing to find out why he had gone down, the teacher wasn't actively worried about the smaller teenager at the moment. Right now, the broken John was more demanding of his concern.

Fortunately, John’s sobs soon began to quiet, a manageable silence making it’s home among the group instead. He still was limp against Hercules and Lafayette, but seemed to have pretty much cried himself out. A few moments later, he pulled away from the other boys, wiping at tears as his face flared red in embarrassment. His freckles were thrown into sharp relief against the dark hue. 

“I… god, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “That set us back, like, fifteen minutes, didn't it?”

“No, son. Even if we had reached the hospital at the same time as Alex, we wouldn't have been allowed to see him. Everything’s okay,” Washington was fast to reassure.

“ _Mon ami_ , do not be sorry,” Lafayette corrected immediately, smoothing a few frazzled flyaways back into the boy’s ponytail with gentle fingers. “You have done nothing wrong.”

“I had a meltdown in the back of your foster dad and my’s teacher’s car,” John retorted flatly, using his sleeve to dry his eyes with rough, frustrated swipes. “I kept us from getting to Alex faster, and made you guys witness it. I’ve done some stuff wrong, I think.”

“Hey.” Herc’s voice was firm and chastising, speaking up for the first time in a while. “We’ll witness you unloading any day, as long as you let us be there for you when you do. As previously stated, we can't help Alex right now anyway, so don't worry about that. And lastly, and I think Washington will agree with me on this, breaking down in the backseat is nothing to be sorry for. Really, kid.”

“Of course I agree with Herc,” Washington soothed. “You’re _fine_ , John. Don't stress over this, son, I promise that no one is upset with you. Now, are you alright?”

The teenager sniffled as he attempted to compose himself, huddling in his sweatshirt and taking a slightly childish comfort in the soft, familiar fabric. The particular one he was wearing had been recently swiped by Alex, and even though he had gotten it back a few days prior the cloth still smelled heavily of coffee and something warm, something distinctly Alex. John buried himself in the scent as he nodded, sighing as he halfheartedly ran a hand over his mussed hair to smooth it. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Good. Now, let’s get to the hospital.”

“Please,” John breathed. 

Lafayette, apparently deciding to stay in the backseat, curled up beside John and rested his head on the other boy’s shoulder. Hercules set a firm hand on John’s knee, catching Washington’s eye in the rearview mirror and giving a subtle nod to show that everything was okay again. The three boys huddled together in the backseat, an united front towards whatever was plaguing Alex at the moment. They would get through this together.

They got through everything together. 

Returning the nod, Washington turned the ignition and pulled out of the high school parking lot. He and Martha would keep these boys safe, protect them against the dangers the world held. All four of them, Alex especially included. Yes, the boys made up the Revolutionary set, but Washington and Martha were the ones that hovered in the background, as much of the group as any of the boys, just in a very different way. That's how it always had been, that’s how it always would be. 

No matter what, the boys would be kept safe.

They just had to reach that damn hospital first. Then, all the boys would be kept safe. 

Washington had no doubt in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know how I did in the comments! 
> 
> Thanks for reading and next chapter up Friday!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang gets an update on Alex's condition, and Washington and Martha finally get to see the sick kid himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chapter 8, yay!!
> 
> This chapter is basically made up of angsty hospital scenes and tears, so I apologize for that, but I promise next week's is happier. Hang in there until then!!
> 
> Beta'd by Jaysong, as always, and next chapter up Friday!
> 
> Enjoy!

It had never occurred to Washington just how long the drive from the school to the hospital was.

Until now, that is.

He maneuvered the car through the streets, driving in tense silence. The boys sat together in the back, John staring at the floor of the car in a detached, far away manner, Hercules watching the world sweep by out the window and Lafayette quietly watching everyone worriedly all the while.

Washington debated saying something, trying to reassure the boys in at least some way, but eventually decided not to. There were no words could make this situation better. 

They spent the next ten minutes in a similar, silent fashion, until Washington finally steered the vehicle into the hospital parking lot. There, the four of them just sat for a moment, no one daring to move, no one daring to speak. The whole fact that Alex was in the hospital was suddenly hitting full force for all of them, slowing them down significantly.

They stayed still for a few more seconds, but then Washington turned around to face the boys, expression soft. His voice was gentle even as he gave the final push to face the facts, to face the truth. It was time.

His smile was faint and grim, not reaching his eyes. “You guys ready?” he asked gently. 

There was another second of quiet. 

Ten Lafayette’s gaze flickered to each of the other boys for a moment, taking in their detached expressions and worried eyes. He took a deep breath as he looked back to Washington with an expression of fragile, cautious faith in the situation. Leave it to Lafayette to be the tentative optimist, but, still, a hint of true hopefulness highlighted his eyes. And that alone was enough to land a pinprick of light in the dark of the future.

“ _Je crois que nous sommes,” _Lafayette whispered.__

__***_ _

__Washington sighed as he pulled out his phone to see if Martha had called him back yet, the black screen tauntingly black. He sat in the chair beside Lafayette, all of them bunched together in a corner of the hospital waiting room. They had arrived maybe fifteen, twenty minutes prior, and had immediately been ushered to this room. Washington had spent several minutes at the reception desk, and thanks to a certain Jane Jefferson, he was now going to be called when they would be able to speak with a doctor and, eventually, when they would be able to see Alex._ _

__According to school and hospital protocol, several people had already tried and failed to get a hold of George King. He had yet to respond to any of their calls, which simultaneously relieved and infuriated Washington. Relieved, because he would have more time before having to face King and more time to prepare for that showdown, not to mention allowing Alex a grace period before having to see the monster that hurt him once again. But it simultaneously infuriated Washington, because what a _coward _that man was, just disappearing when times got rough. Not that Washington was surprised, but the predictability of the situation didn't exactly make the situation any better.___ _

____But, another perk to King’s sudden inability to be contacted was that Washington (and, once she arrived, Martha) was now standing in as Alex’s guardian. So, he would be able to speak with doctors, see Alex, and be updated on his condition._ _ _ _

____Once King did get here, Washington would no longer have that status. But, that was a whole other issue that was yet to be reached. But, just thinking about the situation made Washington’s blood boil. Yes, that issue was yet to be reached. But when it was, Washington was prepared._ _ _ _

____He had promised that he would protect Alex from now on, no matter what._ _ _ _

____He was not going to break that promise._ _ _ _

____So, when King finally did show his sorry face, it would certainly be a show._ _ _ _

____“Any word from Martha?” Lafayette’s quiet question snapped Washington out of his thoughts, the boy looking at the still black screen of Washington’s phone pointedly._ _ _ _

____“Not yet,” Washington replied in a low voice, typing in his passcode -1781- into his phone to unlock it as he checked his recent calls. He had tried Martha twice already, once in the car and once again as they were walking into the hospital, leaving messages both times, and had to get a response. She was probably in a meeting, he knew, but Washington needed her there as soon as she could possibly arrive. He could only stand being the calm authoritative figure for so long while he was inwardly breaking. She could help, but she had to arrive first. So, he just had to wait for now. _Patience. _____ _ _

______In order to distract himself, Washington glanced at the boys at his sides. All three were on their phones, also seeking distraction in brightly colored games and gossip filled social media. Anything to redirect their thoughts. Laf had returned to his screen after the Martha update and the other two hadn’t looked up since they arrived._ _ _ _ _ _

______Because Lafayette was Washington’s kid, there was no issue signing him out of school. And, after brief calls to John’s abuela and Herc’s mother, they were signed out seamlessly as well. Washington himself had taken a personal day._ _ _ _ _ _

______Thank god it was a Friday on top of that. And that fall break started Monday. Washington was grateful for at least that in the midst of panic._ _ _ _ _ _

______Because he ached for distraction as well, Washington dialed Martha’s familiar number again. Why she would answer now when she hadn't answered five minutes ago, Washington had no idea, but it was better than doing nothing. He had gotten past the point of being able to simply push away the worries mentally, he needed to fidget or move or _do something_ to keep the worries at bay. And, unfortunately, Martha was the one that got the brunt of these worries. _ _ _ _ _ _

______Surprisingly, Martha actually answered this time around. But, of course, she wasn't overly happy to be hearing from him three times in the last hour._ _ _ _ _ _

______“What _is it _?” she hissed into the phone, sounding exasperated yet concerned. “I’m in a meeting, George! What in the _world_ is wrong?”___ _ _ _ _ _

________Washington swallowed hard, his voice low. “It’s Alex. I'm currently sitting in Southeast Hospital’s waiting room.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________There was long moment of shocked silence, Washington closing his eyes under the weight of the words. Lafayette looked up from his phone screen to give his foster father a concerned glance._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I forgive you for spamming me with calls, then. It seems you had a good reason,” Martha’s small voice finally decided, her tone fighting for control._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Washington gave her a brief, summarized explanation of Alex’s condition, of what he knew. She listened in silence, the only sounds on her side of the line quiet rustlings as she hurriedly left the meeting and prepared to leave work. Alex was so much more important than some staff meeting._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________As Washington finished, the silence continued for a moment. Then, the unmistakable purr of a car’s motor starting up. Martha’s voice was quiet but firm._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I’m on my way.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________***_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Family for Hamilton?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Washington’s gaze snapped up from the book he had managed to scrounge up from the bottom of his bag, dark eyes immediately landing on a doctor standing in the waiting room doorway. Her tired eyes smiled in his direction as she called out into the quiet room._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Martha got to her feet beside him, having arrived earlier, and squeezed his hand briefly before starting towards the doctor. Walking into the waiting room maybe a half an hour prior, she had effectively and almost immediately whipped everyone into shape. She had soothed Washington, started the boys on their homework, and began working on notes for a case within the first ten minutes of arriving. In other words, she was Washington’s saving grace._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The teacher brought himself back into the moment as he closed his book, and as he set the heavy volume on his seat to reserve his chair, he caught three concerned gazes staring at him worriedly. John especially looked panicked, swallowing hard and clutching the armrest of his chair. Hercules was silent and grave while Lafayette fidgeted with his jacket zipper, needing something to do with his hands to keep his overthinking at a manageable level. But their anxious gazes were near identical._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Trying to smile reassuringly at the boys, Washington let out a small breath. He met each of their eyes, hoping he looked more confident than he felt. “I’ll tell you everything when we get back,” he promised quietly, and walked side by side with Martha out of the waiting room._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The door swung shut behind them, leaving the boys alone with their thoughts and each other._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________If only that was enough._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________***_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The Washingtons settled into matching, overstuffed chairs in a conference room down the hall from where the boys anxiously waited. A desk separated them from the kind eyed doctor, smiling reassuringly at them with a sense of detached empathy from across the table._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I assume you are the Washingtons?” she asked pleasantly, quietly thumbing through a file before her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Yes, we are,” Martha responded, her hand finding Washington’s beneath the desk. Gently squeezing her husband’s hand, the woman stared confidently at the doctor._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“This is quite an unusual case,” the doctor commented as she looked through Alex’s charts, apparently searching for something or another. “Two persons acting as temporary guardians to an unrelated child.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Martha nodded. “We are aware of that,” she said smoothly, her expression a mask. She was a lawyer, she had long mastered the technique of seeming interested yet detached simultaneously. And, with the current situation in front of her, she used this front as a shield, as a shelter._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Peculiar, but understandable,” the doctor continued, pausing to grimly smile briefly at the couple, “especially in Alexander’s situation.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“We are aware of that as well.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The doctor looked up from the file and leaned forward slightly, suddenly unsmiling. Reading glasses were set over her exhausted eyes. “So. Onto the real issues,” she said, her voice serious. “What happened today with Alexander.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Washington swallowed hard. He, on the other hand, was a teacher that had dedicated his life to being engaged with students and their interests. Washington had a much harder time being emotionally stoic than Martha. “Yes?” he finally responded, forcing his voice to stay steady. The Washingtons braced themselves for what was to come._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“When Alexander arrived today, he was suffering from severe dehydration, decreased oxygen flow, and a 105 degree fever. After extensive examination, we have determined the thing that brought this on.” The doctor paused, her eyes flickering down the file before her briefly before looking back up at the couple. “Well, the things.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Washington tensed._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Alex has severe pneumonia, on top of a case of advanced lung injury. The pneumonia was what caused the fever and vomiting, which lead to the dehydration. It also caused the coughing. Luckily, a round of antibiotics should be enough to knock out the pneumonia, regardless of its severity. That’s the good news.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“And the bad?” Martha pressed on, her hold on Washington’s hand tightening. Her expression was one of steel, but the tightness in her posture betrayed her concern._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The doctor let out an apologetic breath, looking weary and tentative. “The lung injury was caused by excessive bruising to Alex’s chest and ribs. The only time we see bruising like that is in the case of domestic abuse.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Martha managed to stifle her reaction the very moment before it made an appearance._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“We have already called Child Protective Services to report Alex’s foster father, George King. His case worker will be arriving later today to speak with us and make decisions as of what happens next.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“May I speak with the case worker, when they arrive?” Washington cut in, squeezing his wife’s hand reassuringly beneath the table as he spoke. “Martha and I would like to make some decisions of our own.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The doctor nodded, continuing to shuffle through the files before her as her eyes flickered back to the pages. Her dark yet greying hair caught the light at this angle, the severe ponytail flawlessly neat. “Of course.” Her tone sounded sorry about the news she just had to break, and quite uncomfortable._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I would like some more details on Alex’s condition,” Martha requested in a subtly strained voice, finally finding her words again after the proclamation about King’s abuse. Washington hadn't had a chance to warn her before, and the unexpected words had definitely jarred her shield, but now she put it back in front of her firmly. They weren't done here yet. “What is the treatment plan for the lung injury?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Yes, of course,” the doctor repeated, slipping back into a confident, experienced manner of speaking that came with talking about medical details and not with fragile, emotional topics._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Alexander is currently having issues with breathing due to the combination of the pneumonia and lung injury,” she explained. “Because of this, we’ve put him temporarily on the ventilator. The breathing machine will give him a better opportunity to heal than what he would have without it. This is one of the few things we can do for the lung injury and the lung injury is why he is currently on the ventilator, but it will assist the healing of the pneumonia as well.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Washington’s stare was intense and worried. “The ventilator?” he repeated, brow furrowing at the news. _Steady voice. Deep breaths. _____ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The doctor nodded, steepling her fingers. “And, because the ventilator is uncomfortable for patients, Alex is currently under heavy sedation, in a coma-like state. It will keep him still and able to heal faster. We’ll begin weaning him off the ventilator in a few days, once the antibiotics have kicked in and he has a head start on healing. He is not out of the woods yet, but he is stable. We’ll keep you updated if anything changes.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Martha swallowed hard, stubbornly keeping her outward appearance a determined mask. The shield remained. “May we see him?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Yes. Alexander is currently in the PICU because of the ventilator and serious nature of his condition, so only four at a time can see him, and no one under twelve. But you two should have no issues.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Martha and Washington exchanged a gravely relieved look. That meant the boys would be able to see Alex as well, thankfully._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________But, even though that was a relief to confirm, it just didn't make up for everything else._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Nothing could make up for everything else._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“We’d like to see him, now, please,” Washington requested quietly, fighting to keep himself in control. He still needed to stay strong, for now if not later. “Is there anything else you have to tell us?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“No, Mr. Washington.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Thank you for all your help.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________***_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Martha and Washington sat side by side next to Alex’s bed, both of them silent as they took in the tubes and machines and sterile surroundings, the air cool and smelling of antiseptic. They had walked in maybe five minutes ago, had sat down hand in hand by Alex’s bedside, and hadn't moved since._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Neither could find words._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Alex, spirited, sprightly Alex, so young and so intelligent, was dwarfed by the wide hospital bed. His eyes were closed, a mask secured over his face and a tube down his throat. A large machine stood guard beside the bed and hummed steadily into the silence. Several bags of fluids surrounded the bed, supplying Alex with all he needed, keeping the kid alive. The entire scene was a montage of daunting machinery, painful looking equipment and impersonal, cold touches, all centered around an unconscious boy with a stubborn tendency to underestimate his self worth._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The Washingtons were alone in the room with Alex, the nurses rightfully deciding that the couple needed some time with the boy without hovering medical staff. Alex was still and appeared to be asleep, if you weren't aware he was actually drugged to high heaven, and looked so out of place in the sterile hospital room it made Washington uneasy. But, with the tubes spiraling out of the broken body and the silence radiating out of the quiet mind, it made perfect sense in the worst way._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Seeing Alex in this state was something nothing could have prepared the couple for._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Neither of the Washingtons moved, instead just taking in the image before them. Alex’s hair was fanned out across the pillow, a heart monitor beeping steadily beside him. With Alex unconscious and the couple not daring to even shift, it was almost as if the room was frozen in time. Washington silently pondered this theory, his mind a detached force that was mostly numb at the moment but still held the faint ability to think, as he gazed upon the small teenager. Here, time was still. Nothing could touch them here. Nothing could change here. But so much, so much could hurt them here._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________But then Martha shifted in her chair, a tiny movement, and the spell was broken._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________After another moment of still quiet, Martha sighed. Her expression was faltering and concerned, posture defeated. But then she began reaching out with a tentative hand. She slowly came closer to Alex, her fingers trembling in a staggering difference from the steady, composed front she had put up for the past hour or so. Her shaking hand hovered over the sheets for a moment, over the pale, thin teenager, as if the lightest touch would shatter the fragile body before her. Then, it slowly lowered to Alex’s limp hand, settling over the tan skin and steadying. Her fingers closed around his hand, squeezing so lightly it was barely felt._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Oh, baby,” Martha whispered, her expression pained._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________A few more moments of numb quiet settled into the room, allowing Martha and Washington to just sit alone with their thoughts. Martha’s thumb slowly swept back and forth across the back of Alex’s hand, the small movement subconscious. Then Washington swallowed hard, finally finding what would be adequate to say._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“In all my life,” he finally whispered, his voice so low it was barely audible, “I have never been more scared than at this moment.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Martha’s thumb stilled._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Neither have I.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank you guys again for all the comments and kudos and hits and wonderful feedback I've been getting on this story. I appreciate every last one of them more than you guys know, and I want to make sure you all understand that! Each comment literally makes my day, each kudos makes me smile and every hit milestone makes me cheer. Thanks, you guys. 
> 
> See you Friday!!
> 
> (EDIT: I just realized the last few paragraphs of this chapter were cut due to an acciental code error, and stayed that way for the first six hours of it being posted. I've since fixed the problem, but I'm so sorry about that!)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get to have some time with Alex, and Washington has a rough time with the events of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This thing is at chapter 9 already?! Wow...
> 
> So, here's our next chapter! Quick TW, just in case- this chapter does include some mention of homophobia, a pretty good sized mental breakdown and a lot of angst. Stay safe, y'all. 
> 
> Anyway, I'm not really sure how many chapters this will have yet, but there's at least several more in the future!! 
> 
> Beta'd by Jaysong, next chapter up Friday, and enjoy!

It was a few hours later that the caseworker arrived, a stern, weathered looking woman with eyes the color of coal. It was then that Washington and Martha left Alex’s room for the first time, then that Washington threw a lasting, worried look at Alex before stepping into the hall at Martha’s gentle prompting, then that they finally allowed the boys a moment alone with the unconscious teenager. 

When the moment had come for Herc, Laf and John to see Alex (about half an hour after Washington and Martha had left the waiting room), all of them had somewhat frozen in the doorway of the hospital room. Their gazes were locked on the unconscious boy immediately, John’s breathing hitching audibly at the sight and Lafayette stumbling over himself when his feet simply decided to not take him any farther. Washington just watched them hollowly from the chair beside Alex’s bed, as if he knew exactly what they were going through, but it was Martha that ushered them in, explaining Alex’s condition to them in quick, no-nonsense words. 

Lafayette was the first to come anywhere near Alex, murmuring in French as he hovered at the side of the bed and hesitantly tried to figure out how to act around the injured boy without hurting him. Hercules had been fast to join his boyfriend, careful to not get too close to the bed in faint fear of somehow messing the kid up more than already done, and John, admittedly, took a few more minutes, but had eventually joined the group, stepping over to Alex with a hesitant air and shaking hands. 

But now, hours later, the boys had somewhat become accustomed to the stiff, hospital setting. Hercules sat in a chair across the room, Lafayette sprawled across a few chairs beside him with his head in Herc’s lap and John casually leaned against the wall nearest to Alex’s bed, having had been sitting for too long prior. But Washington and Martha had just left the room with the caseworker a few moments before, finally allowing them to have a time alone with Alex.

Gently edging Lafayette’s head off his lap, Hercules got to his feet and stretched before walking over to the bed nearby John. At this, Lafayette propped himself up on his elbows, now laying across the chairs somewhat dramatically as he squawked in protest at Herc’s leave. But the muscular teen ignored the other boy, instead cocking his leg and putting his hands in his pockets as he stood beside Alex’s bed. “Well, he’s really done it this time,” he commented tiredly, gaze settled on the unconscious teenager. His voice was still troubled. “Poor kid.”

John nodded, still looking tense but more relaxed than what he had been when he had first arrived. “No joke,” he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Ventilator and everything.”

Hercules made a sound of agreement, nodding vaguely. But then his expression hardened suddenly, eyes narrowing in simultaneous confusion and apprehension. John watched, somewhat perplexed, as the boy stepped closer to the hospital bed, seemingly studying Alex. His hand was gentle but decisive as he carefully shifted the fabric of the boy’s hospital gown. 

“I’m gonna guess you guys haven't seen this yet,” he said flatly.

John was by his side immediately, soon to be joined by Lafayette, who scrambled up from his bed of chairs to cross the room. John sucked in a small breath when he realized what Hercules was talking about, and Laf had suddenly gone very quiet. 

All their gazes were locked on the pattern of dark bruises blooming across Alex's neck, collarbone, chest. They had known about the abuse, of course, being told of it by the Washingtons earlier, but they simply hadn't been prepared for this.

“Holy shit,” John swore softly, gently moving the gown more to see that the bruises covered the majority of Alex’s abdomen. 

“I could not have said it better,” Lafayette whispered, brown eyes flickering across the darkened skin. He worriedly tugged on his ponytail, fidgeting.

Swallowing hard, Hercules crossed his arms over his chest. “Washington told us about this, but I didn't realize… I just didn't realize how bad it was.”

“Neither did I,” John admitted, pulling his hand away from Alex and instead sliding it into his jeans pocket.

Lafayette carefully reached forward instead to replace John’s hand, slender fingers skimming the bruises so lightly it was as if they didn’t touch the skin at all. “He did not tell us,” he murmured, almost to himself, as his hand stilled. But then he drew back from Alex, instead looking over his shoulder at Herc and John with a wounded expression. “Why did he not tell us?”

A moment passed as the other two boys considered the question, realizing they didn't really know the answer either. But then John rubbed a weary hand over his face as he sighed. “Why didn't I tell you guys the real reason I moved here until a year after I met you?” he returned, suddenly looking very tired. 

“Because you were afraid,” Laf muttered, eyes darkening at the mention of that part of John’s life. 

“Exactly,” John said quietly. “So I’ll guess the same goes for Alex.”

That was when Hercules spoke up, his voice low and expression dark. “Why would King ever do this to him?”

John bit his lip as another long moment of silence settled onto the three of them. They still stood beside Alex’s hospital bed, the unconscious boy himself having not shown a single sign of life since they had arrived. It made John uneasy, to see the small teenager look so… broken. And he assumed the rest of the makeshift family felt the same. 

But then Lafayette sighed and broke John out of his thoughts, the French teenager now carding a gentle hand through Alex’s hair. “Why would any adult hurt their own child?” he asked tiredly. “ _Je connais_ , it is simply unexplainable, but there is just no acceptable reason.”

“So what's happening with the whole King thing anyway?” Hercules asked, brow furrowed. “I mean, the authorities will be arresting him at some point, right? Child abuse is a pretty sure reason for jail time.” 

“ _Oui_ ,” Lafayette nodded, “he will be arrested. But our Washington wishes to speak to him before he is contained, so I believe the police have decided to allow King to come to the hospital before pulling out, how you say, the handcuffs.” Then, he shook his head as if it was something not to worry about. “I am not sure of specifics, but Washington has it under control and King is definitely going to spend time in jail.” 

A quiet moment followed the explanation, Laf still running a careful hand through Alex’s hair as he smoothed out the tangles and gently fanned it out across the pillow. But then John spoke, his eyes burning. 

“Good.”

Suddenly, footsteps were heard walking into the room, bringing the conversation to a halt. Washington stood in the doorway, grinning as if he had just received some great news, his posture suddenly relaxed. The boys glanced over at him curiously.

“Can I borrow Lafayette for a moment?” he asked. His eyes were more lively than they had been all day. 

Immediately, the mentioned boy leaped away from the hospital bed and pranced across the room. “ _Oui!_ ” he exclaimed as he ducked through the door, Washington still smiling as he watched his foster son. He threw a quick nod of thanks towards the other two boys before stepping out of the room as well. 

Hercules twitched a small smile as he also walked away from the bed, making a beeline for the door. “I’m gonna go use the bathroom,” he called over his shoulder at John. “Be back in a few minutes.” He stepped out the door and went the opposite direction as the Washingtons, towards the nearest restrooms. 

John and Alex were left alone in the hospital room, the beeps of the heart monitor filling the silence. John didn't move for a few seconds, standing awkwardly beside Alex’s bed, unsure of what to do. But then he was dragging a chair to where he was standing and sitting down, his worries and cautions written across his face. He had been waiting for this moment alone with Alex all day, yes, but he still wasn't completely sure what he was going to say.

Carefully, John reached across the bed and took Alex’s limp hand in his own, being considerate of the tubes and wires as he did so, and slid his chair slightly closer to the bed. The humming and beeping of machinery served as steady background noise, along with the hustle and bustle of the hospital.

Taking a breath, John squeezed the boy’s hand gently. “Hey,” he whispered, extremely conscious of the fact that a nurse or doctor could overhear him but needing to speak, talk, to just _break the silence_. Alex was still silent and unresponsive, of course, but John closed his eyes and spoke despite it. “So, Washington said that you still might be able to hear us while you're under. I don't know it that’s true or not, really, but I guess it's worth a try.”

The boy’s voice dropped even lower, the whispers barely audible. His dark lashes were pressed against his cheeks, eyes shut and head bowed, as a soft exhale escaped him. It was faintly alarming how quickly his emotions surged again, even after his breakdown in the car, but now he ignored the way tears were already pricking at his eyes, his throat already closing with the weight of his thoughts. “Listen,” he breathed, his voice soft yet extremely thick with emotion, the words roughened by the thoughts behind them. “I know that you're sick, and I know that you're hurt, and I know that probably the last place you wanna be right now is right here. But remember that we’re here too, me and Laf and Herc and Washington and Martha, and we-” his voice broke suddenly, and John used his free hand to roughly brush away the tears making their way down his cheeks. He let out a weak, mirthless chuckle, but it came out as more of a sob. “And we _need_ you, Alex. _We need you._ And… and _I_ need you. We all do, more than you even know.” 

The air hitching in his throat, John took a deep breath to calm himself down. The tears had stopped already, but he still wiped at his face with his sleeve, drying the damp skin. A watery smile graced his expression as he squeezed Alex’s hand gently again. 

“I think you get what I mean,” he whispered, and pressed the boy’s knuckles to his lips. 

The two stayed like that for a seemingly endless moment, John closing his eyes and allowing all stimulation aside from the feel of Alex’s warm skin against his lips and the soft sound of humming machinery to drift away. There was just two boys, two hearts, two lives, that had managed to find each other in the madness of this world. A boy in a hospital bed with the the boy he loved beside him. A boy beside a hospital bed which held the boy he loved. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else _existed_.

And although not another word was breathed, so much was said in that one, long moment. 

Just two boys and one wordless, long, silent conversation. 

Nothing else existed.

***

Unfortunately, Hercules wasn't able to be quite as quiet as he would have liked when walking into the room. John’s head snapped up at the sound of footsteps, dropping Alex’s hand from his mouth and jerking away from Alex as if he had been burned. His eyes were wide with panic at Herc’s sudden appearance, gaze locked on the boy’s expression. Herc, on the other hand, froze as soon as he realized what he had just walked into. 

But then Hercules realized why John looked so guilty, the tense posture and scared eyes making sense in a terrible way. Suddenly relaxing his frozen stance and crossing his arms irritably, the muscular teen gave John a somewhat exasperated look. “I thought we were over this, Laurens.”

“Over what?” John still looked startled, his gaze darting around the room nervously before returning to Herc’s unamused expression.

Herc sighed, looking pointedly at the way John had physically retracted from Alex. “That.”

“Herc-”

“John, where are you right now?”

Suddenly cut off, John’s brow furrowed in confusion. His stance relaxed slightly at the odd question. “Uh, Virginia?”

“Correct. And who am I?”

“Hercules Mulligan.”

“And what is my gender?”

“Male…?”

“And what gender am I attracted to?”

“...male.”

“Exactly. And how far, approximately, is your homophobe of a father from where you are right now?”

Suddenly, John realized what Hercules was doing. His eyes narrowed, roughly smoothing his ponytail as the odd questions slowly made sense. “Hercules-”

“Answer me, Laurens.”

John sighed, looking irritable and frustrated. He was sixteen and hadn't talked to his dad in four years, this really wasn't necessary. But the way Hercules was glaring at him made him think that there was little chance of getting out of this one. “Herc, really, you don't have to do this-”

“John.” The other boy’s eyes were hard and stubborn. 

“Hercul-”

“ _John Laurens_!”

Sighing again, John physically seemed to slump a bit as he gave in. His voice was quiet, defeated. “Over 300 miles.” 

Herc nodded in satisfaction, walking over to John’s side. “Exactly.” His voice was soft. 

He crouched beside the chair, a gentle hand on John’s knee. He waited for the other boy to meet his gaze before speaking. “Kid, we’re all accepting. Remember that I have a _boyfriend_ , John. We are the farthest thing from homophobic that you can find. And you and Alex are freaking perfect for each other anyway, so just _stop_ with the shame, the guilt. You're safe here.” His dark eyes were determined. “I promise you, Laurens.”

“I know,” John whispered. “I just have trouble remembering it sometimes, I guess.”

“Luckily for you, we’ll never let you forget it.”

***

In the end, it was decided that the boys that weren't currently in a medically induced coma would be sleeping at Herc’s place that night, together. None of them wanted to be alone after the events of the day, which no one could blame them for, and Herc’s mother had no problem with having the three. So, Martha dropped the boys off at the Mulligan residence and then started towards Mount Vernon with three less passengers, silently steering her car through the darkness.

The night was dark and moonless, the only light coming from the occasional glow from the street lights washing over the dashboard periodically and the short illumination from the headlights casted upon the street before the car. Washington sat, exhausted and weary, in the passenger seat while Martha drove. They had taken Washington's car back to the house earlier in the afternoon. 

Martha had watched Washington deteriorate over the course of the day, the pressure increasing and increasing with each event that came along. And now, as he sat in silence and determinedly stared out the window with tired eyes, she knew that it would be all flooding out any minute now. She knew her husband, and she knew her husband was bordering on a breakdown. She just hoped that he would make it to the house before the dam broke.

Luckily, by the time Martha had parked the car in Mount Vernon’s garage, Washington still seemed intact, albeit still quiet. She lead him through the dark of the night, towards the door leading into the kitchen. It was silent except for the soft, far off sound of a chorus of crickets, somewhere out in the property, a quiet symphony of insects who were just doing what they were meant to do. Martha twitched a smile at this as she unlocked the door and ushered her husband in before her. 

The kitchen was dark and cold, a staggering difference from the warm, well lit and laughter filled room it typically was. Martha dropped her purse onto the counter, running a hand over the smooth, cool surface of the quartz as she removed her coat and went to hang it up. Washington stood still in the middle of the kitchen, looking as if he wasn't entirely sure what he should currently be doing. 

“Hon, it’s getting quite late,” Martha told him gently as she returned to his side, her voice seeming impossibly loud in the quiet. “We probably should go to bed soon so we can get to the hospital early tomorrow.”

Washington started as if he hadn't realized that she had been standing there. “Hmm? Oh, oh yes. That’s not a bad idea.”

Martha smiled sadly, placing a gentle hand on her husband’s back and guiding him to the couch instead of upstairs. This called for an actual conversation, not just avoiding the topic, it seemed, and it appeared she was the one that needed to initiate it.

After sitting him down carefully, she turned on a single lamp before sitting down beside him. 

“George,” she started gently, a hand on his knee, “talk to me. You're starting to scare me a little, hon.”

“Am I?” he asked guiltily, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I think I’m worrying all of you. I walked in on the boys saying that they were convinced I was on the edge of a mental breakdown earlier today.” He let out a weak chuckle, the sound mirthless. 

Martha’s smile faded. “Honey. What’s on your mind?”

Washington was silent, looking as if he was considering his options. 

“George.” Her voice was suddenly firm. 

Seeming hesitant, Washington swallowed hard. But his mind was now made up. “I, uh, I failed him.”

Martha remained quiet, waiting for an explanation. 

“King’s been beating him. King’s been beating him for Lord knows how long,” he elaborated quietly. 

“I know, sweetheart.” Martha’s tone was prompting but soft. 

“We knew it was a possibility. You've been in court with the man, we knew it could happen, and quite easily. We knew about the issue of Alex’s self worth. We _knew_.” Now Washington was finding his words, finding ways to describe his thoughts. He took a shuddering breath, suddenly finding himself blinking back tears. 

“Yet we didn't _do_ anything about the issue. We just… we just let it happen. I just let it happen. I stood by and allowed that monster to hurt Alex. _It was all me._ ”

Martha’s gaze flickered over his expression worriedly, suddenly realizing just how much he was blaming himself. “Honey-”

“I sent Alex back to King _every day!_ ” Washington interrupted, his voice urgent. “Do you know how much I just _allowed_ King to beat the shit out of Alex?! I should have been watching. I should have been more careful. _I should have protected him!_ ” Washington’s eyes were suddenly wet, his expression anguished and frantic guilt increasing at an alarming speed.

Martha’s hand settled on Washington’s forearm, trying to calm him down. Her eyes were concerned but firm. “George-”

But he pulled his arm away from her immediately albeit gently, getting to his feet and pacing the living room instead. He needed to walk, needed to get his frustration out through movement, and didn't want to accidentally harm Martha in the process. “ _No,_ Martha. I know I failed Alex, so don't try to tell me otherwise. When I first saw this- this- this _child_ walking into my classroom I promised myself and him that I would keep him safe, and then I _didn’t_! _I failed him!_ ”

Washington’s voice was a hushed shout, tears now streaming down his face as he paced the floor in a desperate attempt for relief. Everything about him was calmly hysterical; his expression, his voice, his disheveled clothing, his words, a frantic attempt at keeping cool even in the midst of a mental breakdown. Martha watched in silence, sitting very still on the sofa in the light of the lamp.

The teacher’s front was beginning to crumble at this point, his breathing becoming heavy as his pacing sped up. “All this time, I just told myself I was doing everything I could. I convinced myself I had control when I had _nothing!_ This entire thing is just a horrifying, pathetic _parody_ of a father’s protection! _Don’t you see that?!_ ”

Martha was quiet, her gaze calculating yet somewhat pitying. She knew that Washington would never harm her, harm himself, or harm the property, so she just had to allow him get all the frustration out. If only she could help him as it happened.

A raw, agonized sob escaped Washington, the man still pacing. He ran a rough hand over his scalp, not even bothering trying to wipe away his tears. There would be more to replace those dried. 

It was an interesting scene, playing out in the living room of Mount Vernon. Martha perched on the couch, her dark gaze following Washington’s endless path. She was silent and observing, hands neatly in her lap. Meanwhile, Washington was finally shattering after the horrible events of the day, frantically trying to pull himself back together and only succeeding in further scattering the pieces as it happened. Another sob ripped from the man as his pacing reached a frenzied speed. 

“The worst part is, I actually _believed_ that I was helping him. But, oh _God_ , little did I know!” Washington’s sentences were rough and cruel, the words spat out so fast they were barely able to be caught. They were still quiet, but the soft yells had enough emotion packed into them they could have been screamed. “Alex has gone through so much and _I could have stopped it_ but no, of course, I didn't! Because I just stood by and let Alex get so hurt by King that the _boy requires life support_. I failed him.” Another ragged sob. Washington began to slow, his frantic shouts beginning to lower to broken whispers. “I failed him. _I failed him._ ”

Washington’s pacing slowed until he was stationary in front of the sofa, his breathing coming in quiet, broken gasps. He cried openly, a deep down part of him telling him that he should be embarrassed but, truly, he just couldn't find it in himself to be humiliated. It was Martha, anyway. She was a safe place for him. 

For a moment, Washington just stood there before his wife, shoulders shuddering with sobs as everything -the pressure, the worries, the guilt- was released.

But then Martha let out a breath, her eyes soft in the lamp light. The sad, gentle smile returned. “Are you done?”

Washington didn't respond, crying too hard to get words out at this point. 

His wife let out a breath of a mirthless chuckle, opening her arms. “Come here, honey.”

The teacher stumbled over to the couch, shaking as he lowered himself to the cushions. Martha took his hands in hers, hers dwarfed by his. 

“Sweetheart,” her voice was gentle, “Alex is in the hospital because King is a horrible, violent man that belongs in solitary confinement. Not because of you. You are aware of that, aren't you?”

Washington didn't respond, still sobbing. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Martha whispered, pulling her husband closer to her. She wrapped her arms around him, settling her chin on his shoulder. She was quiet for a few moments, allowing Washington’s sobs to fade, as Martha whispered reassurances and waited it out. 

Eventually, his sobs had subsided to ragged breathing and quiet tears. Still holding him, Martha took a deep breath of her own. Her eyes were wet as well.

“George,” she whispered. “Alex is okay. You're okay. Everything’s okay.”

Although he still didn't speak, Martha could feel Washington shaking his head, objecting what both of them knew was true. 

“Then we will be okay,” she resolved instead. “I promise.”

Washington’s hoarse voice spoke up weakly. “Don't make promises you can't keep, Martha.”

“Exactly. That's why I'm making one I can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for every comment and kudos so far, all of you, and, if you'd like, leave me a comment telling me how I did with this chapter! But honestly just thanks for reading, too. That's enough for me <3
> 
> Next chapter up Friday!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys can't sleep, the Washingtons get a phone call, and our Sleeping Beauty finally wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So, this chapter was supposed to be short. Not kidding. It was supposed to be a short, whirlwind chapter and then ended up to be over 5,000 words, so I apologize for that. Unless you like long chapters, and in that case, it's your lucky day!! 
> 
> Beta'd by Jaysong, next chapter Friday, and enjoy!!

It was 1 a.m., at the end of one of the longest days of their lives. They’d ought to be absolutely exhausted, completely wiped and passed out on the living room floor for the next 8-10 hours while reveling in the momentary escape from the hospital and worries of the day.

But, no, because it looked like the boys just couldn't have nice things. 

Instead, Herc, Laf and John sat around the Mulligan’s kitchen table, each of them clutching a mug of tea in a frantic attempt to combat the insomnia they were all experiencing, but the boys all wide awake regardless. John sighed irritably into the silence, expressing everyone’s thoughts in one breath.

The kitchen was empty and silent, the lights Herc had flicked on being the only light source in the dark, sleeping house. The boys surrounded the circular table, hands wrapped around the warm mugs and expressions faintly bored. They had tried to sleep, they really had, but then it just turned to all of them staring at the ceiling from their places scattered across the living room in silence, until a soft whisper from John confirmed that they were all suffering together. Then, there was no hope. They were up, seemingly permanently. 

“God, I hate this.”

So, now, John roughly pulled his frizzy hair into a low ponytail, getting annoyed with the wild curls repeatedly attacking his face as he muttered under his breath. What, exactly, he hated, no one was exactly sure and no one could really find the energy to ask. Lafayette, on the other hand, let out an unsettled yet unamused sigh as he half mindedly drummed his fingers against the edge of the table while Hercules had somewhat dazed out several minutes ago.

As John tightened the hair tie and let out a huff of frustration, Lafayette leaned forward slightly against the table. His long fingers reached all the way around the mug before him, the ceramic warm to the touch, as his pajama pant clad legs were folded beneath him. The boy appeared somewhat hesitant, opening his mouth to speak before immediately closing it again a few times before he finally seemed to find his words.

“So,” he said in a low voice, his accent smoothing the syllable as his gaze flickered over the two other boys. He still looked somewhat uncomfortable, the words quiet. “Do you think that our Alex will, how you say, pull through this?” The way his voice was creased with anxiety, it was easy to tell that this had been bothering Laf for a while. Why he was just bringing this up now instead of earlier, the other two boys could only guess that he had been trying to forget about this worry for some time. 

But, like most worries, they just don't seem to be easily forgotten.

After a moment of hesitation as the other two boys considered their responses. John sighed heavily. “I don’t know, Laf,” he admitted quietly, avoiding eye contact and wishing he could give the worried teenager a better response than this. “Washington said that the outlook looks good, but the kid is legit on the ventilator right now. I just… I don’t really know anymore.” 

Herc’s gaze flickered up to John’s, suddenly clicking back into the conversation. Although he hadn't appeared to pay attention, he had apparently heard everything, especially considering the stern expression on his face. “Hey, you can’t think like that,” he chastised gently albeit firmly. “Alex is a sick kid right now, yeah. But that doesn’t mean he’s not going to get better. You guys know that, right?”  
“ _Je souhaite_ ,” Lafayette murmured softly, slipping into French unconsciously as he worried before catching himself and switching back to English. “But… but I have never seen him look so small than how he appeared today.” 

Hercules lowered his gaze, unable to find a response. 

“Me neither,” John muttered a second later, looking as if he hated this fact with his entire being.

The three boys sat in soft silence, surrounding the kitchen table with their tea and increasingly exhausted postures. They wore varying patterns and styles of pajamas, sitting under the warm kitchen lights and alone with their thoughts, gazes focused on far off points no one but they could see. Just when it looked like they would be spending the rest of the night in this position, the rest of the night in this uneasy silence, Hercules shifted.

“Would it be too cheesy to tell you guys that I know we’ll get through this together?” he asked thoughtfully, a smile twitching at the edge of his mouth as he landed the perfect way to lighten the mood.

John cracked a small smile as well. “Yes.”  
“It’s true, though,” Herc pointed out flatly, eyes beginning to warm with humor.

“Not arguing with that,” the freckled teen defended himself, taking a long sip of tea, the warm liquid beginning to cool. Setting the mug back down on the wood of the table, he flashed a brief smile Herc’s way. “But it would be cheesy.”

Lafayette sighed, stretching with a soft groan. “Well, I do not mind. Bring all the cheese you would like.”

“Then we’ll get through this together.”

A quiet moment passed, in which the small, forced smiles faded to something a little more meaningful. John swallowed hard, looking at the table instead of the other boys, as he spoke softly. 

“Still cheesy, but good.”

***

Washington woke up to his phone ringing frantically on the nightstand, the ringtone squealing out a rhythm as it begged for attention. Although it rattled him out of a deep, exhausted sleep, he had shaken the bleary daze off and was reaching for the singing smartphone within a few seconds, quickly alert. He pushed himself into a sitting position, the events of the last three days already frustratingly on his mind as he stared at the number across his screen. 

It had been approximately 72 hours since Alex had gone down, three long days spent in the PICU with the unresponsive teenager. Herc, Laf and John had insisted on being there as much as possible, but no one had been around Alex as much as Washington, not even Martha. He had stayed through everything he could, remaining when Martha had to check into the office for a few hours to make up the work she missed, not moving when his wife insisted that the boys take a few hours off to get out of the hospital, refusing to leave until a nurse kicked him out of the room every night. It was exhausting, but he would gladly do it all over again if it meant he got to keep a constant eye on Alex. 

Martha shifted beside him, pulling him back into the moment as the sheets rustled. Brushing the somewhat snarled hair out of her eyes and squinting up at her husband in the low light, Martha let out a soft sigh. The phone was horribly loud and it was dreadfully early, the sky still dark outside the window, and her voice was slow and scratchy with sleep as she spoke. “George? Isn’t it about 6 a.m.?”

“5:45, actually, but it’s the hospital,” he murmured hurriedly, accepting the call and bringing the phone to his ear even as he spoke. He shot Martha a grimly hopeful look, his wife hurrying to sit up expectantly as well beside him with fragile hope written across her face, as the sound of shuffling papers were suddenly heard across the line. “Hello?”

“Mr. George Washington?” a pleasant, cool voice requested. 

“Speaking.”

“This is Southeast General Hospital.”

“Yes, I am aware.”

“We phone to alert you that Alexander Hamilton will be taken off the ventilator this morning. He may take a few more hours to be alert and awake, but he will brought back into consciousness today.”

Washington nearly dropped the phone. 

“Today?”

“Yes, today. The doctors have voted him stable enough to withstand breathing on his own along with consciousness.” The woman, most likely a receptionist or possibly a nurse, was quick to inform.

“That's- that's incredible, thank you so much,” Washington said in a rush, already swinging his legs out of bed and darting around the room, attempting to get ready. “We’ll be there as soon as we can.” He hung up and set his phone on the dresser, not being able to help grinning widely. 

Martha was left sitting blankly in a tangle of sheets, blinking at her husband in confusion around a mop of snarled hair. “What did the hospital want?” she asked softly, holding back a yawn as she stretched. 

Spinning around, Washington beamed shamelessly. He didn't even care anymore, this was too important to keep happiness hidden. “They’re taking Alex off the ventilator. He’ll be awake today.”

Martha sat there gaping for a long moment, her sleep-fogged mind slowly processing this information. Then she leaped out of bed as well, briefly threw her arms around her husband in celebration, and then both the Washingtons were rushing around in an attempt to get ready as fast as they could. They were both grinning like what probably resembled maniacs, Martha letting out a light bout of excited laughter as she grabbed clothes out of her dresser, but neither cared. 

Alex was waking up. 

That's all that mattered. 

***

Alex came into awareness while coughing, which didn't seem like much of a change from what he last remembered experiencing.

He was disoriented for a moment, of course, especially considering his eyes were forced shut as he hacked. But, even has he coughed weakly and felt as if there was a layer of sandpaper coating the inside of his throat, a cool hand was quick to brush his hair out of his face, alerting him of the presence of others in the room. 

At first he flinched away from the contact, eyes still closed as he fought back the coughing fit, but the soft hand was gentle and persistent. Combing through his hair, stroking a few stubborn flyaways away from his face, a continuous, subtle presence just to let him know that they were there. 

“Darling, open your mouth.”

Although his eyes were still squeezed shut against the hacking cough, Alex obliged. The voice was startlingly familiar and wonderful to hear after such a long time without it. _Martha._

As soon as he managed to get the coughing under control enough to get his mouth open, something cold was slid onto Alex’s tongue. Ice. The water soothed his throat as it melted, making Alex thankful for the thoughtfulness of the woman he presumed was standing beside him, and allowed the coughing fit to recede.

Finally, he was able to get a full breath, his eyes opening slowly. Predictably, Martha was standing right beside him, carefully pulling her hand away and giving him a gentle smile. What Alex hadn't prepared himself for is the fact that he was currently propped up in a hospital bed, alone in a bleak looking room with Martha hovering at his side and Washington tentatively standing at the foot of the bed, looking afraid to get too close.

After a quick moment of trying to figure out what had happened, Alex opened his mouth to begin his interrogation of what the hell was going on, but was immediately shushed by Martha. 

“Don’t try to talk yet, hon,” she recommended, voice sounding exhausted but relieved. “You’ve had a tube down your throats for the past three days, and it was only pulled out about an hour ago. Take it slow.” She held up a small cup of ice chips, a small smile still on her face. “These should help. Do you want more?”

Nodding, Alex allowed Martha to slide a few more into his mouth. Part of him was somewhat in culture shock at being taken care of like this, but he wasn't about to purposely change that. It was kind of nice, he guessed. 

As the ice chips melted, he glanced around the room again to take stock of his surroundings. 

The small teenager wasn't overly surprised to find himself surrounded by medical equipment; he was breathing too easily to not have been. Several tubes seemed to be connected to him, slithering off to their respectful supplies, machines, monitors and carrying whatever he might need within their plastic confines. A heart monitor beeped quietly to itself beside the bed, the structured blips in the silence joining with the humming of some other nearby machinery and the hustle of the hospital. Martha patiently waited for him to gain his bearings, smiling faintly, while Washington looked hesitant and cautious as he remained few feet away. 

“What happened?” Alex finally whispered, finding his voice to be hoarse and painful sounding even to him. Martha was right, something had seriously screwed up his throat recently. 

The woman was gentle as she squeezed his hand. “In the last few days? Quite a lot.” She paused to give a subtle, meaningful look to Washington before turning back to Alex with a smile. “You know, the boys just left to grab breakfast. I should call them, let them know you're alert; they're going to want to see you as soon as they can.” Smiling reassuringly at him again, Martha stepped out of the room, clutching her phone and walking with quick, confident steps. 

That left Washington and Alex alone in the hospital room. The boy eyed the teacher warily, unsure of why the man was suddenly acting so oddly, as his fingers knotted nervously in the bed sheets. Suddenly, his mind was almost bombarded with things he hadn't realized right away. That he was weakened, that he was attached to several machines, that there were likely restraints somewhere around the bed or room. 

That he was more vulnerable alone in this room with Washington than a rabbit alone in a clearing with a wolf. 

Washington was safe, Alex knew deep down, but his instincts were screaming at him about the dangers of this situation. So, as the tall man stood awkwardly a few feet away, Alex forced in a breath to calm himself and continued to keep an uneasy eye on the man. In the awkward quiet, he unconsciously began noting exits as well, just in case things went south. Alex had learned to expect anything over the years.

After a long, painful moment of stand-off silence, Washington heaved a sigh and approached the bed cautiously. His eyes were reassuring yet worried, face creased with long standing concern, lip bitten raw. Much to Alex’s relief, he went slowly, allowing the boy a chance to repeatedly relax himself as he realized how much he was unknowingly tensing up. By the time Washington slid into a chair beside the bed, letting out a breath, Alex had twisted the sheets in his hand so much they had become noticeably creased.

“Do you remember what happened to you, son? Do you remember why you're in the hospital?” Washington asked softly, looking tentative. 

Alex shook his head mutely, continuing to fidget with the sheets and biting back a response to ‘son’.

A long period of consideration seemed to follow, Washington looking uncomfortable. But then, as the teacher let out a slow breath and steeled himself, the words were deliberate and strong. 

“You collapsed, Alex. You collapsed in the boy’s bathroom over three days ago.” 

Alex’s gaze snapped to Washington’s, startled. His tense muscles went slack with surprise, having not remembering that. Now that he thought about it, he assumed it did make sense, but it was still a bit of a shock to hear it. His uneasy thoughts were quickly forgotten. “I… I didn't realize.”

Washington swallowed, expression almost bordering on guilty. “What do you remember about that day in general?”

Taking a breath, Alex attempted to find the memories he could from that morning. But, now the same nervous thought process from before made a reappearance, fogging his concentration. He was quick to shake it off and dive back into scrounging up what he could from Friday morning. “I know that I was feeling sick,” he stated plainly, starting with the obvious. “That I thought I was going to throw up, but made it to the bathroom before I did, thankfully. And… and that you followed me in.”

Washington nodded seriously. “That’s right. Can you remember anything else?”

“Not clearly.”

“Then let me fill in the gaps. When you ran from the classroom, I followed to make sure you were alright. When I reached the bathroom, you were extremely weak and soon passed out cold when I tried to check for a fever.” Washington let out a light breath. “If I’m going to be honest here, you terrified me with that one, Alex.”

“I’m sorry,” the boy muttered quietly, suddenly feeling guilty for something he didn't remember doing. But, even now, he instinctively worried if there would be punishment for scaring Washington, unconsciously wondered what would happen to him for the involuntary action. 

Alex realized with a start just how broken he was.

“Don’t be sorry, Alex, but you just went _down_ , without warning. And, as I sat on the bathroom floor with you for a few minutes as I waited for the nurse to arrive, I saw the bruises.” 

Alex froze like a deer in the headlights at that, his numb mind suddenly blank. 

Washington’s voice was barely audible, his dark, guilt filled eyes avoiding Alex’s gaze. “Son, we know about the abuse.”

Alex didn't move for several moments, mouth opening and closing as he searched for something to say, something to explain. But Washington didn't let him get the words out, instead barreling on to the rest of what the boy missed before giving Alex a chance to speak. 

“You collapsed from severe dehydration and decreased oxygen flow. Once you got to the hospital, you were diagnosed with severe pneumonia and advanced lung injury. Although the pneumonia was something that came on by itself, it was left untreated long enough for it to reach dangerous levels. And the lung injury was caused from King.” His voice was informational and cool at first, but began warming and softening as he continued on with the explanation. By the time he reached the last sentence, he was nearly whispering.

“I-” Alex tried, finally finding his words, but Washington wasn't done yet. He started again with renewed strength.

“The doctors decided that the ventilator would be the best treatment plan for you, to allow you a few days to heal without the extra burden of breathing by yourself. Unfortunately, the they had to put you under sedation while on the ventilator, so you’ve technically been in a medically induced coma for the past three days. George King has not yet come to the hospital, but Martha, the boys and I have all been here as much as we possibly could.”

Swallowing hard, Alex found it easier to focus his attention on the sheets beneath him than on Washington’s intimidatingly concerned gaze. The man still looked guilty, but as if a weight had been lifted off of him. Alex half mindedly fidgeted with a warm blanket covering his legs, probably courtesy of Martha, and wondered how long the dreadfully heavy weight of knowing about the bruises had been settled on Washington. “Thank you for staying with me,” he murmured softly, pulling himself back into the moment.

“Of course, Alex. This morning you've already woken up once, but very briefly and you were very confused and were a bit violent because of that. Apparently that’s common with medical coma patients, but you’re fine now. And I’m willing to bet that you don’t remember that, either.”

Alex silently shook his head.

Washington nodded, his guilt beginning to give away to relief. Alex was grateful; the constant guilt in the man’s expression had been making him nervous. “That’s what I thought. So, that brings us up to now. You’re on the mend, there isn't much risk anymore, you’ll be moved out of the PICU in the next day or so now that you're off the ventilator.” He paused to give a sad smile, his eyes softening. “But, in the meantime, there’s a few things we need to talk about. Some things that we’ve got to figure out together.”

Alex met Washington’s gaze tentatively, waiting for the teacher to begin. His hand remained tangled in the sheets beside him even now.

Washington sighed softly, moistening his lips as he leaned forward in the chair. His expression was determined. “Why didn't you come to us about the abuse, Alex? I’m so sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, but I’ve got to know. Did we do something wrong?”

Immediately, the boy was shaking his head. His voice was fast but firm. “No, no, you didn't do anything wrong, of course you didn't do anything wrong. I promise. I just guess I just thought I was okay handling it alone, as stupid as that sounds. I thought I had it covered, at least at the time being.” At the deepening crease between Washington’s eyebrows, Alex was quick to continue. “I mean, I’ve handled it by myself before and ended up alright. Besides, as long as I followed the rules, King barely touched me. It was just when I screwed up that he would smack me around. Uh, do you get it now? I just didn't want to worry anyone with a problem that wasn't theirs to worry about.”

Washington looked pained at this. “Alex, I get that you feel like you had it under control. But no authoritative adult should be ‘smacking around’ anyone, especially children. You are aware of that, right?”

“Of course,” Alex muttered, his face coloring slightly. 

“Good. And that you can worry us with anything any time you like? That we would actually like you to come to us with problems instead of trying to handle it alone?”

“Now I do,” the boy admitted softly. 

“I hope so.” Washington’s expression softened for a moment. “But, with the injuries you sustained from King and the neglect we so clearly saw, you will not be going back to that home. It is simply unsafe for you.”

Alex brightened briefly before suddenly sombering, as if a dark cloud had abruptly passed over the sun. His thoughts sped as his heart sank, suddenly keeping an eye out for a hidden social worker somewhere around the corner. “Where will I be going instead?” he asked quietly, suddenly realizing that the system could very well transport him across the state. If that happened and he got with another crappy home, he might not be able to see John or Laf or Herc or the Washingtons again for a really, really long time. And, even though he had only been with them temporarily, the makeshift family, _his_ family, had made a permanent home in his heart. 

He should have known something so good wouldn't last. It just wasn't how it worked for him. 

Of course, he should have known.

But, to Alex’s fragile hope, Washington gave a slight smile, the realest display of joy Alex had seen since he had woken up. It was one of the realest displays of joy Washington had allowed in several days, in fact, but Alex wasn't yet aware of that. Instead, he just saw the man’s smile, heard his voice, and allowed himself to relax under the trust that Washington would take care of whatever might happen. 

Alex had forgotten what it felt like to trust someone, especially someone like Washington. 

It was a nice feeling.

The man’s voice was warm as he brought Alex back out of his own head, Washington’s eyes gaining a flicker of light as he spoke. “That’s where we come in.”

But before Washington could get farther than that, unfortunately, the hospital room door slammed open. Laf was the first to dart in, quickly followed by John skidding across the tile and Hercules walking in beside an amused looking Martha, appearing satisfied at the small smiles gracing both of the men’s faces.

Lafayette shot to the side of Alex’s bed, throwing his arms around the sick kid and practically crawling onto the bed with him in his enthusiasm. “ALEX!” he yelped into the boy's shoulder, burying his face in Alex’s hair. “You are awake!”

Laughing, Alex gently patted Lafayette’s poof of a ponytail as the tall teenager curled up beside him. “Hey, Laf,” he chuckled. “Great to see you, but, remember my, uh, current situation.” Although it was said in a joking, lighthearted tone of voice, Martha, standing in the doorway and watching the scene fondly, knew that Alex just couldn't bring himself to reference the bruises, the abuse, what had happened to him. And, at this point, she couldn't blame him. 

Fast to oblige, Lafayette loosened his hold on Alex but refused to move, now literally pressed into Alex’s side and completely lying on the bed with him. 

Herc ventured over next, smiling fondly and putting a gentle hand on Alex’s shoulder for a moment, squeezing lightly before pulling away. “It’s good to have you back, kid.”

Lafayette had begun chattering immediately, of course, but no one was paying a huge amount of attention to the excited teenager. Straining slightly around the several figures crowding him, Alex managed to catch a glimpse of John, who was suddenly hesitant near the foot of his bed. “Hey,” he called hoarsely, offering a faint quirk of a smile to the uncomfortable looking teenager. 

“Hey,” John chuckled, taking a few steps closer to the other two boys. Alex smiled in satisfaction.

As this was happening, Washington walked back to Martha and stood beside her near the door, the couple standing side by side and watching the scene before them, to allow the four to have a moment alone together. He traded a fond look with his wife, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her to him. “How does a cup of coffee from the hospital cafeteria sound to you right about now?” he whispered into her hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Wonderful,” she smiled up at him, and the couple threw one last look at the laughing teenagers before stepping, unnoticed, out of the room. 

***

It was almost as if the others _wanted_ to force John and Alex to be alone together. 

It started around noon, when Washington quietly excused himself from the hospital room, saying that he had some papers to pick up from Mount Vernon to grade and would be back in an hour or so. Martha was quick to follow, saying that she could pick up some notes for a case too. They ended up going together. Then, maybe twenty minutes after they left, Laf announced that he and Herc were going to go and get some drinks for everyone. Herc offered an apologetic smile to the remaining two while Laf winked in an outrageously flirtatiously fashion, the latter dragging his boyfriend out of the hospital room and leaving John and Alex alone. John didn't miss how Laf grabbed Alex’s phone (an extremely old model of a smartphone that did nothing but text and call anymore, courtesy of a former foster family) off the counter to eliminate any distractions. 

“Well, that was weird,” Alex stated plainly, his gaze flickering from the door to John. He had relaxed over the course of the day, now casually sitting in the hospital bed and just watching the world go by from a comfortable lookout. His dark eyes now looked up at John playfully. He still felt sick, of course, and had even passed out for a good hour earlier, but with the help of the antibiotics he was feeling better than he had in a good week or two and was now reenergized after his power nap. 

“Yeah,” John chuckled in agreement, his voice sounded strained even to him. Of course, he knew exactly what was going on with the others, the completely conspicuous at giving the two privacy. Probably organized by Lafayette, it was a well planned attempt at forcing John to talk to Alex without having witnesses. 

And, much to John’s faint horror, it was going to work. 

“Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?”

A smile twitched at Alex’s mouth, expectantly tilting his head head slightly. He still looked like hell, but his appearance had become a little more reassuring with the lack of a tube trailing down his throat. “Yeah, sure. What is it?”

John took a breath, settling himself in a chair beside the bed. He leaned forward, hands clasped between his knees. He hesitated for a moment before speaking, choosing the words that would get his message across the best. “Do you… do you remember anything from when you were under?”

Shaking his head, Alex let out a small sigh. “Not really, no.”

“Okay,” John said slowly, avoiding Alex’s gaze. “You do remember when I got upset with you when you were hiding the fact you were sick though, right?”

“Yeah. You were pretty pissed.”

John swallowed hard, steeling himself. “I wasn't really that _angry_ at you, Alex, and I’m sorry if you thought I was. I was just really, really worried, because-”

Suddenly, the hospital room door banged open, revealing a darkly worried looking Herc and breathless Lafayette. The latter clutched Alex’s phone like a lifeline, his expression one of panic.

“I am so sorry to interrupt,” the French teen gasped, “but I have good reason.”

Alex immediately sharpened, sitting up in bed. “Laf, what happened?”

Lafayette gulped, holding out Alex’s phone for the other two teens to see for themselves. “I took your phone, Alex, to make sure it did not go off while you were talking to John. But… it received a text while in my grip.” He took a breath. “It was George King. He is on his way to the hospital as we speak.”

Well, _shit_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *nervous laughter* yeah.... so that happened..... yell at me in the comments if you'd like.....
> 
> Next chapter up Friday, and I hope you guys liked the fluff in this one. We haven't had some good old fashioned fluff in a while ;D


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George King comes to the hospital.
> 
> Washington and King have a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Here's chapter 11, finally... hope you guys like it. I had some trouble writing it but I think I'm satisfied with the end result! Also, just in case, there's some heavy mention of child abuse/neglect in this chapter. I mean, it's mentioned in pretty much every chapter, but this one especially. Stay safe, guys. 
> 
> Beta'd by Jaysong, and next chapter up Friday!! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Washington was a pacer.

It was something that had been a part of him for as long as he could remember, the pacing. Whether he was upset, angry, excited, confused- he paced. Paced wherever he could, for as long as it took for him to get a hold of himself. Movement just seemed to help with whatever was bothering him. It always had. 

But, as he relentlessly walked the hospital hallways with a seriously overused smartphone clutched in his hand and a frantic scowl written across his face, pacing just wasn't seeming to do the trick today. 

He had received the desperate call from Lafayette maybe fifteen minutes prior, the panicked teenager in such a state of disarray that he had been rambling in French without realizing it. After a moment of one-sided, confused conversation, Hercules had the sense to wrestle the phone away from Laf and instead explain the situation to Washington in English. The teenager’s voice was low and fast as he explained the fact that King was currently on his way to the hospital, Laf’s French mutterings still able to be heard in the background. Washington had grabbed Martha and gotten into the car within the minute, pushing the speed limit and praying that they didn't encounter a police officer on their hurried way to the hospital. 

Now, Martha was in the hospital room with the boys, attempting to talk Lafayette down into a state calm enough to have the ability to speak English clearly again (the kid had a tendency to speak only in French when he was panicking, and Alex, the only one who spoke fluent French, wasn’t feeling up to translating at the moment) while John stood guard by Alex’s bed and Herc stood in the door, keeping an eye both on Washington and the others. They hadn't gotten any other updates on the location of George King since the initial text. 

Dialing yet another number, Washington let out a soft growl of frustration as he spun on his heel to continue his endless path. He was preparing, bracing himself for King’s arrival. Because they didn't have much time, Washington was rushing to get everything in order before the man reached the hospital, especially considering that, once King did get there, Washington would be parked at Alex’s side until the man was far, far away again. The teacher was determined to not let King even touch Alex while the man was around the boy, and that required backup. So, he was preparing. 

Washington just hoped it would be enough.

***

It was approximately 25 minutes after the text was received that George King finally arrived at the hospital. 

The makeshift family was alerted of this by a nurse that was in on the situation, the young man ducking into the room to warn them that Alex’s foster father was currently at the nurses station, trying to find Alex’s room. Washington was fast to get out of the hallways and cease his pacing, instead hurrying back to the room to stand guard with the others. 

He found the family all in the room, in various positions and placement around Alex. Before finding a place for himself, Washington hurried over to Alex, knowing they didn't have much time but feeling required to check up on the boy.

“Are you alright, son? Are you going to be okay with this?” he asked softly, a gentle hand on Alex’s shoulder. His voice was hushed, eyes worried, but expression set.

Swallowing, the boy nodded decisively. His dark eyes were nervous yet determined as they met Washington’s gaze briefly before looking away again. “Yeah, I will. Thanks.”

It wasn't until later that Washington realized this was the first time Alex didn't object to the title of _son._

Grimly smiling and squeezing Alex’s shoulder lightly, Washington stepped away from the boy and instead stood in front of the bed, blocking the patient from the view of the door. The family seemed to take a collective breath. 

It was barely a minute after the warning that George King stalked into the room.

Washington had briefly seen the man before, but mostly in pictures. This was his first chance to really take in King, Washington’s first opportunity to let his scrutinizing gaze scan over the man’s expensive yet casual clothing, his mask of a small, smirk like smile, his unnaturally bright green eyes. King was young -at least a decade or two younger than Washington himself- and the teacher knew that King had come from a family of high status just from the little he had been able to collect about the man. The younger man was clean shaven and well groomed, clothes clean and unwrinkled, teeth white and straight. At first glance, no one would assume a man like George King to be capable of child abuse.

Just goes to show you that people that cruel, people that terrible, can be just about anyone. 

The moment King appeared in the door, the entire family’s gazes snapped to the man. A long moment of quiet followed, a standoff of who was going to speak first. King’s eyes flickered around the room, taking in the multiple teenagers and two seriously pissed looking parents. He stopped in the doorway, not coming any farther into the room, and seemed to wait with an almost amused expression on his face. 

John was beside Alex in the hospital bed, offering moral support and watching King with a warning expression not to come anywhere near the two of them, while Lafayette and Hercules hovered at the edges of the room and Martha prepared to play referee for the combat that was sure to come. The makeshift family all had set, determined expressions on their faces, as if preparing for a battle they just couldn't avoid. John’s hand found Alex’s in the tense moment of silence that followed King’s arrival, the older teen squeezing the sick boy’s fingers in reassurance, a warm, comforting presence. Alex let out a shaky breath. 

And then King stepped into the room lightly, hands casually in his pockets as if he had just arrived seconds before. A small, neutral smile was fixed on his face. 

“I do apologize for my late coming,” he drawled slowly, smile unmoving. Washington’s jaw clenched unconsciously at the man’s voice itself. “I’m afraid I’ve been very busy the past few days.”

Washington forced himself to keep his voice steady, picking his words carefully. He responded a moment after King, allowing himself time to collect his thoughts first. He had every intention of going after all the things King did wrong soon, but for now he had to tread lightly. “I assume that the doctors notified you of what was wrong with Alex, correct?” Martha, standing a few feet away, was looking back and forth between the men with an unsettled expression but didn't speak.

King pursed his lips, seemingly attempting to look around Washington to get a glimpse of Alex, the boy hidden behind the teacher’s tall stature. Washington smoothly stepped with King’s gaze to keep Alex behind him. 

“No, they didn't, in fact,” King commented as he gave up on trying to make eye contact with his foster son. He cocked his leg, a faint, wry smile still twitching at the corner of his mouth. “The doctors refused to give me any information on voicemail.”

Washington nodded once. Taking a breath, he glanced at Martha for confirmation that it would be okay to start confronting, start getting into what King did to Alex. Confirmation that he was allowed to show his anger. He had to make sure that it would be alright to start getting offensive; after all, Martha was the one that came up with this entire plan. But with a curt nod from his wife, Washington’s gaze snapped back to King. “Then allow me to tell you.” Alex’s grip on John’s hand tightened as Washington took a small step forward, a small step closer to King. 

It was truly amazing just how intimidating Washington could be when he wanted to. 

“Alex was diagnosed with severe pneumonia and advanced lung injury. He was so sick and so hurt that a ventilator was required for him to be able to heal, and because of the ventilator, three days of heavy sedation was needed as well.” Washington didn't pause, didn't hesitate. His words were practically spit out at the other man, eyes burning as he got warmed up. The boys watched this with wide eyes, Martha with a small, grim smile. 

Washington had been preparing for this showdown for three long days; he was not going to let his chance go to waste now.

“He collapsed in the _bathroom_ at the school from dehydration and decreased oxygen flow. And, do you happen to know _why_ Alex was so sick and so hurt? Because the pneumonia had gotten to the horrible state it was in from neglect and the lung injury from domestic abuse. Yes, _abuse!_ And you know the only person that could possibly be responsible for said domestic abuse?” Washington swallowed hard, pausing for a moment not to prepare himself for the answer to the question, but to allow himself to breathe. Locking gazes with King, he let out a small breath. “ _You._ ”

It was then that King began to get defensive, began to be engaged. Martha watched carefully, making sure this argument didn't escalate to something they wouldn't be able to control. “Now, that is just inappropriate,” King retorted, expression disgusted. “How _dare you_ suggest that I would abuse my foster son?”

“I am not suggesting anything.” Washington’s expression was one of barely contained fury, his anger from the past few days surfacing with a vengeance. And, luckily for him, King was just the person to unleash it all onto. “I am stating the truth. You _did_ abuse Alex.”

By this point, Alex was trembling in the bed behind the two men and trying to hide it without much success. John watched the exchange with a sense of worry for Alex, feeling the boy shake beside him, but surprised elation at the way Washington was chewing King out. The last time John had seen the teacher like this was when Henry Laurens had come to town with the intent of getting John and his siblings back from their abuela; that had been a memorable day filled with a lot of twelve-year-old John hiding behind Martha while an extreme shouting match happened between the two fathers.

King drew back at the plain confrontation, looking offended. His mask of an amused, sly expression was breaking fast. “Excuse me?”

Washington was practically vibrating with anger, very quickly becoming very upset. He clenched his hands into fists to hide their shaking. “You abused Alex, George. The doctors have recognized it, I’ve recognized it- you have hit Alex in the past!”

Now becoming more animated, King took a threatening step forward. The other people in the room watched silently, Lafayette looking torn between running to Alex to comfort the boy or running to King to beat up the man and Hercules taking caution to make sure the French teen did neither. John pressed into Alex’s side, trying to offer silent support as the boy shuddered. 

“And what if I did?” King snapped, both of the men completely oblivious to the people surrounding them. “What if I did hit Alex once or twice? What is the harm in that?!”

“ _Everything!_ ” Washington exclaimed, a breath of an incredulous laugh in the shout. “Hitting a boy is never acceptable! I don’t care about the circumstances; there is never a good reason for intentionally harming a _child_.”

Martha had walked to Herc and Laf’s side, settling a gentle hand on both of their shoulders to keep them where they were, keep them from lunging. Herc had been doing pretty well, but now he had bloodlust in his eyes, and Lafayette had been a bit of a risk since the beginning. Normally, she would be more worried about John, but she knew that the death grip Alex had on the boy’s hand and the thinly veiled terrified expression on the sick kid’s face was more effective than anything Martha could have tried.

King threw his hands up in the air, his face taking on a cherry pink tint. His gaze never left Washington. “He disobeyed the rules! You expect me to just let a disobedient teenager get away with something he _knew_ was not allowed? Punishment is a remarkably good teacher! Do you not agree with me?!”

“Of course I agree with you!” Washington shot back with another hint of a disbelieving, mirthless laugh, the two men locked in a verbal war. They paid no mind to the people surrounding them, instead just shouting without reserve, standing a few feet apart in the middle of the hospital room. Washington was still stationed in front of the hospital bed. “But acceptable _punishment_ is grounding them for a week or taking away electronics. What you did to Alex was _domestic violence!_ ”

“Do not tell me how to raise a boy that is in my custody!” King roared, his collected appearance officially crumbled. His eyes flashed with anger and a hint of desperation, face now bright red.

“I am sorry, but I care about Alex, very much! _We all do!_ And we will _not_ allow him to be in a dangerous situation that may cause him harm!”

“The way that I act towards my foster son is none of your business!” King yelled, breathing heavy with the intensity of the argument.

“Yes, in fact, it is!” Washington’s volume was rising with every word, his response instantaneous. “Not only is my house where Alex spends almost all his time besides at school, I am his _teacher!_ So even if there wasn’t an emotional attachment between Alexander and me and my family, it would be something I would have to be involved in! He is incredibly important to us at this point, and has been from the beginning. We’ve spent the past _three days_ sitting in a hospital room, we _care_ about Alex! This involves us _all_.”

“No matter _what_ you say, no matter _what_ you feel, _Alex is my foster son, not yours!_ ”

“ _False_.”

Washington was suddenly calm with the single syllable, finally satisfied. He stood straight and still, taking a deep breath as he straightened his clothing, getting a hold of himself after the intense shouting match. Both men’s faces burned scarlet, but suddenly Washington was collected and in control while King was a disheveled disaster. 

Martha smiled quietly to herself from the side of the room.

King froze, looking taken aback. He was silent for a moment as he tried to make sense of the small word, mouth opening and closing as he searched for a response, now standing still at the abrupt change in pace. “ Excuse me?”

Washington took a moment to respond, taking the time to choose his words well. “False. Alex is no longer your foster son. Custody over Alexander was taken from you three days ago upon reports from both me and the doctors here at the hospital.” He paused for a moment, sneaking a quick glance over his shoulder at Alex, the first since the argument had begun. The boy was still shaking from the aftershock, John’s hand intertwined with his in an attempt at comfort, but his eyes were lit up with a slowly brewing realization mixed with so much fragile hope it made Washington’s heart swell. A small, reassuring smile appeared on the teacher’s face, not bothering to look back at King before continuing as his gaze settled on Alex’s so tentatively hopeful dark hues, vulnerable in the best possible way. “Custody was instead given to my wife and I. I _am_ his foster father.”

Washington hoped he’d be able to remember Alex’s expression forever from that moment. 

King gaped, not moving. Washington looked over at the younger man again, his smile from Alex’s stunned yet disbelieving reaction fading fast at King’s very presence. Taking another step closer to King, Washington took a breath. He couldn't see no obvious consequences for what he was now drawn to do, and after such an argument and such an experience with the man, Washington just couldn't help himself. 

“And, one more thing,” he said softly. Without missing a beat, his right fist had collided with King’s nose with a satisfying crack worthy of the record books.

Definitely broken.

As King reeled back in shock and from the force of the blow, Washington’s gaze snapped to the two policemen in the doorway. _Perfect timing_. Just when King recollected himself enough to snarl and lunge back at Washington, the cops were at his sides, holding him back and stating his rights in fast, fluent voices. 

The Washingtons, specifically Martha, had managed to get this timing and planning down perfectly. King, with his inability to be contacted, hadn't given the police a try at arresting him, and Washington requested that they allow King a chance to come to the hospital first before starting a manhunt. True to the teacher’s predictions, King had arrived at the hospital, and the cops had waited while Washington had an opportunity to confront King. And now, they were acting. Martha looked satisfied, a slow smile spreading across her face as the boys watched the scene in stunned disbelief. They had been in on the plan, of course, but none of them had really believed that it would _work_.

Now, King froze as he realized what had happened, what had been planned out, why there was suddenly a pair of handcuffs being snapped onto his wrists, what he had walked into. And then, he was yelling. Yelling profanities, yelling threats, yelling a number of insults at everyone in the room. One cop, a woman, ignored the man gracefully and instead threw a small, reassuring smile to the family. The two policemen began to steer King out the door, the legal situation already handled and the details already worked out. 

But then Alex sat up in his bed, looking exhausted but determined. “Wait.”

Washington quickly motioned to the cops to stop, somewhat confused as of what was going on but allowing Alex to say whatever he needed to to his former foster father. The cops turned King around, allowing the two to see each other one last time.

A moment of quiet followed as Alex seemed to struggle with his words, something had happened very rarely, and appeared to gather the courage to speak. John still sat beside him, their hands still interlocked. 

Everyone in the room knew that this was going to be important. This was going to be the last thing Alex said to the man that abused him probably ever, the last message conveyed between the two men. So, they allowed Alex all the time he needed to pull together what he needed to say. The silence sombered the room immediately, everyone letting Alex have his time as they waited. But then, Alex took a breath, apparently finding his message, as his gaze stilled on King. His voice was steady, eyes determined, expression set.

“I am not going to let you break me,” Alex said softly, slowly, but his voice held so much intensity he could have screamed the words. A small smile appeared on Washington’s face as the statement continued. “I am not going to let what you did to me define me. I am not going to live my life as a shell of what I once was because of you. That just isn't who I am.” He released a long, slow breath. His hands stilled, each word deliberate. “ _You did not break me._ ”

A long moment of stunned silence followed. Washington and Martha exchanged a glance of vague amazement at the boy that was now theirs, John squeezing Alex’s hand lightly in congratulations for a job well done as a slow grin spread across Lafayette’s face and Herc let out a soft sigh of relief at the way things turned out. Not allowing King a chance to respond, the cops lead the criminal from the room. But not before the woman gave a nod of respect to Alex, giving a look to Washington as she walked into the hall that clearly meant _you’ve got a good one here_.

Once King left the space, it was as if all the tension and energy just bled out of everyone. Washington fell heavily into a chair, exhausted after that flood of emotions, while Martha released Herc and Laf and Alex pushed out a slow breath to calm himself. For a second, the room seemed to share a collective sigh of relief. But then Lafayette was flying across the room, throwing his arms around Alex for the second time that day with an elated laugh. 

“You are ours, _mon ami!_ ” he laughed excitedly, effectively breaking the silence. The gangly teen could barely fit on the bed with John and Alex already there, but he somehow managed to make it work. 

Alex let out a short laugh of disbelief as well, hugging Lafayette back. “Yeah, apparently!” His voice practically shook with relief, light without the weight of King’s constant presence at the edge of his mind. A free soul.

John joined in the hug as well, soon to be joined by Herc. The four boys made up a laughing, relieved muddle of limbs, all just taking joy in the fact that they were all okay and together. Martha, meanwhile, walked over to Washington's side, the teacher still in the chair from when his legs had basically given out on him. She settled a gentle hand on his shoulder, comforting and warm as his hands shook as well with the alleviation of the King situation. He gave a watery smile to his wife, still pulling himself back together after such an intense, emotional argument. She smiled back, her eyes happier than he had seen in a long while. 

“Are you alright?” she asked gently, softly as the boys all shared the freedom of relief a few feet away. 

“I’m incredible,” he chuckled, “just in shock.”

“I understand that,” she smiled, lowering herself into the chair beside him. She, for one, hadn't gotten herself worked up during the argument, and now was the one still calm. “You did wonderfully.”

“I was just stating the truth.” Suddenly, an almost giddy smile spread across his face for no exceptionally good reason. He leaned over to kiss Martha, but he didn't pull away immediately. “ _He’s ours_ ,” he whispered into her ear, the smile heard in his voice. 

Martha couldn't help but smile as well, kissing her husband again. 

Suddenly, a laughing yell from John brought the couple back into the moment. “Hey, Washington, you and Alex aren't so different after all! Both of you seem inclined to punch idiots, and I can’t say I blame you.”

Washington let out a breath of chuckle, gratefully accepting the blue gel ice pack a helpful nurse offered him. Pressing his quickly swelling right hand into the cool material, he shared an amused look with Martha. “Perhaps,” he smiled wryly at the boys, “only I know how to properly break a man’s nose.”

“We were in a school!” Alex yelled back indignantly, a smile still on his face. 

The teacher couldn't help the laugh that came at that. Washington suddenly knew, for the first time in a long time, that everything was going to be okay. 

Everything was going to work out. 

And thank the good Lord above for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's that. 
> 
> Also, I wanted to say this really fast... I want to make sure you guys know that this story or any of my works is a safe place. If you need to rant, unload, or just talk, feel free to drop a comment here or on anything by me. I don't mind long comments at all (in fact, I love them along with every comment I get) and it's great being able to just talk to you guys.
> 
> Have a great week and I'll see y'all Friday!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington and Martha have a talk with Alex, John and Alex have a heart to heart, and Alex is struggling a bit more than we had originally thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!! So, here's chapter 12... this past week has been one of the longest of my life, so I'm not completely happy with this chapter, but I guess I'm satisfied with the end result. I hope you guys like it though!!
> 
> Quick TW: this chapter does include mentions of PTSD from child abuse, and a very, very brief mention of rape. Stay safe, guys. 
> 
> Beta'd by Jaysong, next chapter up Friday, and enjoy!

Washington had always considered himself to be in control, to have his emotions fully in check. Yes, he was a teacher, and for that he was almost required to be passionate and emotional, but he still thought himself able to choose what he felt and what he showed. 

Until Alexander Hamilton made an appearance in his life.

Then, suddenly, he felt as helpless when it came to emotions and how he expressed them that it mirrored the way he felt when he first met Lafayette.

So, he wasn’t overly surprised when he felt himself getting choked up when he and Martha sat down with Alex to talk over the foster situation and what had happened with it. By this point, after the events of the past few days, the prick of potential tears in his vision was nearly familiar. 

“We’ve wanted you for longer than you probably realize.” 

Washington and Martha sat on either side of the hospital bed, Alex between the two of them and listening and watching them both in a faintly cautious yet attentive manner, as if he wanted to trust them but his instincts didn't quite agree. It was the day following King’s arrest, allowing everyone a chance to calm down and recharge before talking about what had happened and what had been said. After the excitement of the past day, it was easy to see that the grace period had been needed.

So, now, the other boys had been told to go and get lunch for the family while Alex and the Washingtons had a chance to talk over everything. Martha was comfortable and content albeit a touch emotional, while Washington still looked tentative and, although clearly excited, his expression still held a note of worry. His voice was soft as he spoke, gaze trained on Alex.

“From the first day we met you, we got attached almost immediately. _Of course_ we did. And when we realized that George King was your foster father, we knew that we wanted to take you in ourselves as soon as we could. Unfortunately, we didn’t have a case to take you away from King, considering you hadn’t told anyone that he was abusive and that we could see no apparent evidence that he had even set a hand on you.” Washington had a sad, soft smile playing across his face. “Not that anyone could blame you for staying quiet, of course, but we simply didn’t have anything to give the judge in order to get you in return.”

“You know I’m a lawyer,” Martha interrupted softly, gently taking Alex’s hand in her own and squeezing lightly. His hand was shaking slightly in hers. “I searched for any loophole I could possibly come across, but I just couldn’t find anything that could be of use to us. But, we still had hope that we would be able to foster you eventually anyway.” 

Washington smiled briefly Martha’s way for the explanation. “Of course we did.” Letting out a breath, the teacher’ let his grin fade slightly into something a bit more serious. His eyes stilled on Alex's. “So, when you were admitted into the hospital and the doctors filed a report against King, I spoke to your caseworker when she arrived. Martha and I were able to initiate the custody switch from King to us, considering the caseworker was reluctant to pull you from such a good situation with your friends and schoolwork, where you had settled in so well apart from the abusive foster family. So, with her help, we were able to take you on as a foster son. We’ve already checked with Lafayette; he was overjoyed and is just fine with you moving in with us as his foster brother.”

Now, Washington was feeling and probably looking especially anxious. He had wanted this for a long time now, wanted this situation to happen, and now it occurred to him that it might just not still. _If he says no…_

He swallowed hard, blowing out a breath as he met Alex’s gaze again. “The only thing that we need before you can become part of our family is… well, consent from you. The caseworker thought that it was possible that you would want to have a chance to start anew, in a new town with a different family instead of having to live in a place with so many bad memories. If that’s true, please don’t hesitate to let us know, we only want what’s best for you, of course, and-” 

“ _Yes._ ” 

The single word cut off Washington’s beginning tangent, the man somewhat startled by the abrupt interruption. But, then, as what Alex had just said sunk in, he became increasingly elated. A small, disbelieving smile spread across his face. “What?” 

“ _Yes!_ ” Alex repeated, his expression one of disbelief. “ _Of course_ you have my consent! _Of course_ I want to be your foster son!”

Washington stopped breathing for a moment, he was sure, the fragile hope welling up within him faster than he could keep up with. “Are you sure, son?” 

“Positive.” 

Martha immediately leaned forward, wrapping her arms around the boy with an elated, relieved laugh. “Oh, thank God,” she said breathily, pressing a kiss to the side of Alex’s head. They had thought that he would want to become an official part of the family, or hoped so, at least. But the confirmation was… truthfully, the confirmation was simply incredible. 

“Ditto,” he whispered in response, voice oddly strangled as he hugged the woman back.

***

John had the faint, satisfied feeling that he had gotten away with something. 

The others had almost succeeded in their attempt to force him to confessing to Alex, yeah. But they _didn’t_. Succeed, that is. And, in the excitement of the King situation and Alex becoming an official part of the Washington family, his awkward beginning at a conversation had been nearly forgotten entirely. 

Key word: nearly. 

“Hey, John? What was it you were trying to tell me yesterday?”

_So close_.

Alex set down his book expectantly, looking towards John as he just remembered the beginning of the conversation. John mentally cussed up a storm.

But now, there was no way to avoid the conversation. It looked like it was time to finally break the ice, or else it would look really suspicious, which would probably be worse than the actual truth. Time to spill.

“Uh, yeah. One sec.”

Letting out a slow breath, John perched himself on the edge of the chair beside Alex’s bedside. He could feel his face flushing furiously and he hadn't even started talking yet. 

_This should be fun._

“So, where was I yesterday when Laf burst in here?” John asked, his voice slow but his mind frantically and desperately hoping that Alex had somehow been drugged up or something at the time of the conversation and didn't remember the events discussed. 

“You had just started saying that you weren’t really mad at me, and that’s when Herc and Lafayette interrupted, I think.”

_Damn._

John ran a half hearted hand over his ponytail, smoothing a few frizzy strands back into their place as he sighed heavily. There goes that hope. 

“Well, I wasn’t actually angry at you, I promise. Anger is just, uh, easier to deal with, I guess? I don't know, really, but I’m sorry if you thought I was pissed at you. I wasn't then, and I’m not now, I promise.”

Alex’s voice was soft yet firm, his expression prompting. “Then what was all that yelling about?”

Hesitating, John mentally attempted to arrange his words in a semi-comprehensible order. 

“John. What’s going on?” Alex suddenly looked serious, eyes concerned. 

“I, uh,”

“ _John._ ”

“I _care_ about you, Alex,” John finally blurted out. Once the word vomit was started, it wasn't easily ended. “When you flat out refused to take care of yourself, I got _upset_ , because I care about you way too much for you to be practically dying right there in front of me! We _tried_ to tell you to keep yourself in decent condition and you ignored us, and now you’re in the _hospital!_ You didn't come to us about the abuse, you didn't come to us about the pneumonia, you didn't come to us about _anything!_ And I care about you _way too much_ for you to go around spontaneously collapsing in public school bathrooms!”

John’s breathing heaved, faintly appalled with himself for everything he just rambled but with a strange feeling of relief of freedom, on top of that. He watched Alex in a mix of fear and expectation, waiting for the sick boy’s response. 

Alex’s gaze dropped from John’s face, instead looking down at the bed clothes as if they were an easier sight to hold than John’s intense yet relieved eyes. “I care about you too,” he said softly. “You’re one of my best friends; of course I care about you.”

Biting his lip, John could see no harm in continuing to ramble when he had (probably) screwed up so badly already, his face still flaming anyway. So, his voice was steady as he spoke, his gaze now settled on his lap. “I care about you in a different way than you’re thinking, Alex.”

Suddenly, John could feel Alex’s eyes on him. Head raising slowly, the two boys’ gazes locked in a moment of intense connection.

“How do you know what way I’m thinking?” the younger boy quietly asked, expression flatly questioning.

“Because you’re straight.”

A small, wry smile played at the corner of Alex’s mouth, not reaching his eyes. “You don't know that for sure either.”

John’s breathing hitched in his throat.

“Laurens, I like you a lot.”

Gaping quite stupidly in a way that he figured probably resembled a fish, John took a shaky breath. “So, you-you’re-”

“Bi,” Alex finished for him. “And yeah, I care about you. And yeah, in the exact same way you’re thinking.”

Gulping, John suddenly lost all self control. “I think I might love you, Alex.” For a split second, John had enough time to be appalled. Enough time to be shocked into silence and panic that those words had just escaped him, that he had just screwed up that much. _Shit!_

But he only had a split second, because the response was instantaneous, although now soft and bordering on shy. “And I think I might love you back.”

An unexpected whoop from the doorway pulled the boys’ attention away from each other. There, Herc was smugly smiling and leaning against the doorframe while Lafayette practically vibrated beside him with excitement, his hands clasped beneath his chin and eyes shining with what appeared to be tears of happiness. 

“ _Finalement!_ ” Lafayette yelped out, his voice oddly strangled. 

“Little bit of privacy, guys?” John asked flatly, pointedly looking towards the hallway. 

“ _Bien sûr, bien sûr,_ ” Laf babbled, herding Herc out into of the room and shutting the door firmly behind them. 

Now alone again, Alex chuckled awkwardly. Both of the boys’ faces were flushed. “Uh, where were we?” he asked, voice suddenly tentative. 

It was almost before Alex got the words out that John’s lips were colliding with his own. 

At first, the younger boy was startled, of course. He was stiff and unmoving, frozen with shock. But then, he realized just how _natural_ it felt. This was right. 

It was just about at the moment that Alex began to kiss back that the door slammed open, followed by bustled, completely unsuspecting words.

“So, Alex, I was just speaking to the doctor and-” the words cut off abruptly with a startled inhale that suggested Washington had just realized what he had walked in on, the footsteps making their way across the cool tile of the hospital room freezing in their path. 

Pulling away, Alex’s voice was calm although the furious blush spreading across his cheeks suggested otherwise. “Oh, uh, Washington, is it cool with you if I’m bisexual and date John?”

Washington bit his lip, an embarrassed flush of his own blooming across his face. “Er, sure.” Taking another glance at the boys, he awkwardly began backing out of the room. “I’m sorry for interrupting. Please, allow me to, uh, take my leave.” 

Alex had never seen Washington look that uncomfortable.

Finally alone, hopefully for good this time, John and Alex exchanged an embarrassed laugh. John pulled away more, an anxious hand running over his hair again in a nervous habit. 

“Uh, is this okay?” he asked quietly, a small, uncomfortable smile gracing his expression. “I mean, you pretty much just asked me out through Washington, but-”

A firm hand on his own caused John to stumble to a stop, his gaze flickering over Alex’s tentatively. The other boy had a more confident, sure smile, his hand warm. 

“This is great, John.”

“Glad we agree,” the older boy breathed, practically throwing himself back towards Alex. 

***

Washington was woken up by a scream.

He jerked awake in the hospital chair, the room darkened with the night. He and Martha had begun taking turns sleeping in Alex’s room in the past few days, now that Alex had been moved from the PICU and the custody switch was completely official, making the Washingtons Alex’s legal guardians and foster parents. And, because of this, they were finally allowed to stay overnight. 

So Washington was right there as Alex let out another sound of plain panic, his eyes squeezed shut as he thrashed in the bed.

Of course, Washington was somewhat confused and discombobulated for a few moments, unsure of what was happening and who it was happening to. His fists clenched around the armrests of the chairs, eyes rapidly adjusting to the darkness as he frantically tried to make out what was going on. His mind raced, thoughts flew, gaze desperately flickered over the dark room.

It was right about then that Washington realized Alex was caught in the confines of a nightmare. 

Stumbling to his feet and crossing the room nearly instantly in the dead of night, the teacher was by Alex’s side within seconds. The boy still writhed, clearly asleep but clearly in distress, while a cold fist of fear closed around Washington’s heart as another whimper escaped Alex, tears streaming down the boy’s face. The heart monitor beeped rapidly, erratically, beside them as it tracked Alex's panicked heart rate.

What was Washington supposed to do? Were you supposed to wake those experiencing nightmares like these? How? The teacher's hand hovered helplessly over Alex, unsure of what would be acceptable and safe to attempt. 

But, as another panicked yell ripped out of Alex, Washington couldn't let this go on any longer. 

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Washington gently reached out to touch the small teenager’s shoulder. His hand shook, the image of the distressed boy bothering him more than he had previously thought it would “Alex. Alexander. Come on, son, you’re safe,” he whispered firmly, gently shaking the boy in an attempt to rouse him out of this episode. 

But, at the contact, Alex just let out another yelp, curling away from Washington in clear terror. Still asleep, still unaware, but obviously not alright with any sort of touching at the moment. His hair was damp with sweat, eyes still squeezed shut.

At a loss of what to do next and feeling an increasing amount of adrenaline and panic welling up inside him, Washington had never been more glad to see a nurse rushing into the room, her expression urgent.

She hurried into the space just to see Alex thrashing in the hospital bed, Washington hovering beside him with an utterly helpless look on his face. The nurse flipped on the lights immediately, illuminating the dark room with harsh lighting that seemed to make the sterile surfaces glow and momentarily blinded Washington, then nearly sprinted to Alex’s bedside. A firm hand on his shoulder, she didn't slow him to pull away as Washington had. 

“Alexander,” she almost commanded, her voice loud. The nurse was older and looked experienced, which made Washington feel a bit better in the midst of confusion and panic as he watched the nurse shake Alex, more roughly than Washington had. “ _Alexander_.”

With a sob like gasp, Alex’s eyes finally snapped open. He lay still on the hospital bed, chest heaving and cheeks wet. The nightmare was over and the kid was finally aware, but that episode had scared the shit out of Washington and he wasn't afraid to admit it. _What was that?_

For a moment, it was if everyone was given a chance to catch their breath. Washington could feel his heart rate slowing, along with the heart monitor beeps beginning to come farther apart, the nurse letting out a sigh of relief. Alex lay on his back in the middle of the rumpled sheets, still trying to regain his bearings and tear tracks shining in the bright lighting. 

A few seconds later, Washington stepped forward tentatively, careful not to touch the boy. His voice was soft. “Alex, are you-”

With a sudden relieved sob, Alex had lunged forward and thrown his arms around Washington’s middle before the teacher could even finish his sentence. Burying his face in his foster father’s shirt, the sobs came too fast and hard for Alex to get out any kind of explanation, the ragged breathing unbelievably relieved.

Washington stood still and stunned for a moment, somewhat frozen in surprise. Then, as the boy continued to sob uncontrollably, Washington carefully put his arms around the small teenager. The boy trembled with the lightness of release, that whatever had happened inside his head tonight wasn't happening in reality. “It’s alright, son,” the teacher whispered softly, rubbing Alex’s back gently as his mind positively sped. 

The nurse skirted around the bed, checking vitals and I.V.s and other equipment to make sure they were in working order. Then, she gave Washington a meaningful look. 

“Would you like me toI request a therapist come to speak with Alex?” she asked so quietly it was barely heard, the question directed at Washington and likely missed by the boy it was centered around. And as the teenager's sobs refused to subside, Washington thought that may have been for the best.

The teacher hesitated for a moment. But then he looked down at the boy in his arms, the sobbing, distressed child who had simply been through too much. Sighing, Washington met the nurse’s gaze and mouthed a silent _yes_.

***

“They’re sure it's PTSD?” Martha asked with a frown, methodically looking through a pile of multicolored pamphlets the therapist had given Washington earlier that day. The couple sat across from another at their kitchen table, causing Washington to think back to the last time this situation had happened, looking through Alex's test results what seemed like an eternity ago.

“All the symptoms point to it,” Washington sighed, bringing himself back into the moment. Martha hadn't been there for the meeting with the therapist, she had instead taken the boys back to Mount Vernon to allow them a few hours away from the hospital and allow Washington and Aled some privacy. And, now, the teacher was filling her in on what she missed. “He has nightmares, has avoided contact for as long as we’ve known him, blames himself for the abuse and is extremely easy to startle. The therapist suspects that Alex has had PTSD for an extended amount of time already, most likely begun by past abuse. But, unfortunately, it looks as if the King situation has added an entire new layer to the issue.”

Martha frowned, brow knit. Her voice was soft, disbelieving. “But he's only fifteen. He's so young,”

Washington swallowed. “I know, but PTSD can affect any age.” Lacing his fingers together, the teacher leaned forward slightly. “The therapist gave us a list of psychiatrists and other local therapists that we can go to as well. But the question I'm concerned with is that we don't know what Alex has gone through in the past as much as we thought we did. If it was bad enough to cause him to acquire post traumatic stress disorder, then it must have been far worse than we had guessed." 

Martha's gaze stilled on her husband's, mind working. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she seemed to realize what her husband was suggesting. "What are you saying, George?"

Letting out a breath, Washington pushed himself roughly from the table. His expression was one of frustration. "I'm saying that we have absolutely no idea what those monsters from his past have done to him. He could have been assaulted, neglected, ignored, locked in a room for days, bullied- Martha, he could have been _raped_ and we wouldn't even be aware of it." Washington's frustrated expression had morphed into something a bit softer, his eyes now concerned. "We wouldn't even know. And we can't save him from any of this that might have happened to him, because we can't save him from the past. But I _want to_ , Martha. I want to save him from this." He blew out a breath, brow furrowed in concern and lip between his teeth. "But I _can't_." 

“I know you want to help him, honey.” Sighing, Martha pushed away the pile of pamphlets in favor of taking her husband's hand. “So, our foster son has post traumatic stress disorder. We don't know what he did or did not go through. We have no idea about the future right now. But we will. We'll learn about this issue, we'll help Alex in any way he'll let us. We're going to get through this.”

“I suppose so,” Washington said softly, swallowing hard. “We always do.”

Martha nodded firmly, her expression gentle. “Exactly. Families are made up of several people for a reason. God knows that we can't deal with the weight reality deposits on each of us alone, the pressure would break us before it would even be given the chance to help us. We are given a family, blood or not, to be given the support that we need to get through this life while enjoying it all the while. If one person falls, the others will catch them. That's how family _works_. And our family, our peculiar little mix of a teacher, a lawyer, and four teenagers is what gets us through. It always has, it always will.”

Washington sighed, eyes closing for a moment. “I know that, I honestly do, sweetheart. I just have to remember it.”

Martha smiled sadly, squeezing her husband's hand gently. "We will never let you forget it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff 'n angst, all day every day
> 
> Hope you guys liked this one. Unfortunately, it looks like there's only going to be one more chapter in this fic... but don't worry, I've still got plans for this story. I'll explain in the epilogue, next week. 
> 
> Also, I rarely do this, but my beta Jaysong just posted her first story, called The Prince and His Thief. Go check it out if you want, I was named cocreater too even though I did barely anything so *self impressed chuckle*
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and see you guys next week!! <3


	13. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly the title. Set a few days after Chapter 12.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, you guys. Last chapter. THIS IS IT!
> 
> So, I fully plan on getting sappy and emotional at the end, but for right now, I’m just gonna keep it simple. This entire thing, start to finish, was beta’d by Jaysong, so forever thanks to her, and enjoy!!

Washington had never imagined that one car ride could be so talkative.

But, regardless of the teacher’s preconceptions, it seemed as if everyone was chattering away on the drive from the hospital to Mount Vernon, finally taking Alex home after a long week in the hospital. 

Or maybe it was just Lafayette. 

“ _Mon ami,_ you are finally going home!” Lafayette exclaimed from the back of Martha’s van, currently sitting sprawled out back there with Hercules while John and Alex sat a row of seats up and Martha drove, Washington claiming shotgun. The sun streamed in through the windows, the radio was playing softly in the background, the was warm with laughter, and Washington felt able to finally just sit back and breathe. It had been too long that they had all been together outside a hospital room.

“I know, Laf,” Alex laughed lightly, “I think we all kind of are at the moment.” He and John exchanged an amused look.

“ _Non,_ ” Lafayette said, leaning forward to appear between John and Alex’s seats as he shook his head, face framed by frizzy flyaways from his ponytail. “You are finally going _home_. As a Washington foster child, you are going to Mount Vernon for the very first time!”

_Oh._

Alex was quiet for a moment as he realized this statement. John threw him a sideways glance, a soft smile on his face, while Hercules sat back with an apprehending expression. 

But then, Alex smiled, slightly disbelieving. “Hey, you’re right,” he said, the smile in his voice. “Never really thought about it like that.”

“Well, Alex,” Washington started from the front, turning around to see the boys as Martha continued to drive, “I know we should have spoken of this sooner, but what room would you like? We have several spare that you can move into, it’s really up to you. Once you get in we can paint and decorate accordingly, of course, but the choice is yours.”

Alex took a breath, looking uncomfortable. He squirmed slightly in his seat, expression uncertain, eyes lowered. “Uh, it really doesn't matter to me. Whatever is best for you guys.”

Washington smiled sadly, meeting Alex’s slightly cautious gaze once it rose from the car floor. “One of these days, you’ll get that you can take nice things from us without worrying about the consequences,” he said softly, voice gentle. “But today does not seem to be that day. Would you be totally opposed to taking the room beside Lafayette’s? It would be way easier on Martha and me if we were able to get to both of you faster.” _And if you were closer to us in case of a nightmare,_ Washington silently added. That room was right down the hall from the master bedroom, so if Alex were to find himself caught in the trap of a nightmare, they’d be able to hear and get to his side within minutes. 

Alex had had a few more nightmares while still in the hospital, a few more of his episodes in the dead of night. Martha had been there for both of them, and although it had been scary for all parties, the Washingtons now had an understanding of how to watch over Alex while the nightmares happened. They had located a therapist that they liked, and Alex would soon be meeting with her for the first time. But, for now, Washington and Martha had a basic idea of how to manage his PTSD until they could get more personalized help.

“ _Oui, mon ami!_ We can have sleepovers whenever we may want that way!” Lafayette exclaimed, looking excited at the very notion and effectively pulling Washington back into the moment. 

Alex nodded immediately, looking relieved that the pressure was off. He smoothed his French braid unconsciously; one of the younger, sweeter nurses had sat him down and done it for him before he had left the hospital. “Yeah, that sounds great. Can I really paint and stuff?”

“Whatever you’d like.”

A shy smile appeared on Alex’s face, meeting Washington’s gaze briefly. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, Alex.”

It was John that distracted the small teenager, redirecting his attention to a funny post that his boyfriend (and yes, that was an official thing now, as the boys had announced to the family a day or two prior) had found on Instagram. The phone was very quickly being passed around the car, random bouts of laughter coming from whoever had the beat up device at the moment, and then the post striked up a friendly argument over the benefits of dogs over cats and vice versa while John stubbornly defended his personal choice of turtles above anything else. The car was quick to be filled with indignant shouting about their opinions, Martha smiling to herself as she listened to the conversation and steered the van towards Mount Vernon.

Although Washington did put his vote in on the dogs/cats issue (he would be forever fond of dogs), he and Martha somewhat stepped out of the conversation to let the boys just enjoy each other's company. Washington had to think back to the first time Alex had visited Mount Vernon, the polite, nervous boy with an aversion to the name of _son_. So much had changed since that day. 

And, as Washington watched the boys laugh over a stupid joke Hercules made considering the importance of horses over all other animals and he caught a glimpse of Alex’s widely, childishly grinning face, freer than Washington had imagined the boy to be capable of, he couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, that change wasn't such a bad thing.

***

“Why aren't you just, like, a licensed interior decorator already?” 

Lafayette paused his analyzation of the room to flash a large smile Alex’s way. “I truly do not know.”

The boys were currently sprawled out across Alex’s new room, John prone with his chin propped up on his fist on the bed while Alex sat beside him and Hercules sat on the floor, leaning against the bed and laughing at Laf, who was flouncing around the room and making plans aloud on how he was thinking of decorating it with little to no consent from Alex. 

John had missed this, this relaxed, fun atmosphere that had been near impossible to achieve while at the hospital. Now, they had finally gotten their sound back, scattered across Alex’s room with laughter in the air.

Alex lowered himself into a prone position beside John, wincing slightly when the movement pressed at his bruises. He didn't try to hide his pain anymore, didn't try to make sure no one saw or knew that he was hurting. And, under this new resolution, Alex had told the boys about his PTSD the day after he himself had found out. 

So yes, Alex still had a ways to go before being officially okay again. But, okay was way overrated. John had learned that much through personal experience. Really, none of them were okay. Herc had been arrested as a twelve-year-old, Lafayette had lost his entire family before even hitting puberty and John- well, John was kind of screwed up too. They were all far from okay. But, really, that was fine with John. They worked. 

“You alright, John?” 

The question snapped John back into the moment, realizing that something else had been asked that he had missed. He smiled, nodding lightly. “I’m great. What was that?”

Alex smiled in return, stretching. “Laf had just asked you what you thought of his new trend idea. The French flag,” Alex paused for dramatic effect, “painted over that entire wall. The entire thing. Just a wall of French.”

“Thoughts?” Lafayette asked brightly, his focus centered on the mentioned wall as he seemed to mentally measure out the surface, using his long fingers to judge the area. 

John let out a small, surprised laugh at the sheer stupidity of the conversation, but couldn't find it in him to be annoyed or unamused by it. He had been around Lafayette for long enough now to just have learned to go with it and leave it at that. Winking at Alex, he let out a thoughtful sigh. “I think it sounds great. Maybe a little overkill, but isn't that, like, the thing nowadays?”

Lafayette turned to beam at John, a spark of humor in his dark eyes. “ _Merci!_ I knew that someone would agree with me.”

Yeah, none of them were okay. 

But okay was overrated. 

***

In celebration of Alex’s homecoming, Martha had made a dinner comparable to a feast and made sure Herc and John were given next to no choice about staying. Not as if they would have said no, but she was determined to get the family together for at least just one night. 

The boys tumbled down the stairs when they were called, still a laughing disaster as they collapsed into kitchen chairs and began laughing again about some stupid thing that made sense to no one but them, eyes shining and smiles wide. Martha smiled and shook her head as she stepped around them to get back to finishing the meal, oven mitts fitted over her hands and braided hair beginning to loosen and frizz slightly from the heat of the kitchen. Washington had been in the room for a while now, just sitting and talking with Martha, and now he stood with a smile to help with setting out the food. 

“C’mon, guys, mind helping out?” Washington asked the boys good naturedly, smiling as he juggled a few plates on his forearms and wrists in an attempt to balance the meals.

“Sure, give me a plate,” Alex grabbed a plate from Washington to avoid a catastrophic fall, the boys all accepting the dishes they were offered as they transferred the food from the counter to the table, the placemats and silverware already set out.

The entire scene was wonderfully domestic and comfortable, a family working together in a warm kitchen. Much more domestic and comfortable than they had been recently experiencing, at least, and it was truly a wonderful and welcome change, Washington thought to himself as the family settled down around the table. A bustle of four laughing teenagers, a smiling lawyer and a content teacher. A strange but beautiful combination. Everything was familiar, comfortable, light-hearted, until-

“I was ten when my mom died.”

-everyone simultaneously froze.

Surrounding the table, the group of them were silent for a long moment. At the statement from Alex, Washington couldn’t help but think about where this was coming from, after the moment of getting over the initial stun of the words. Alex had never spoke about his past before, Washington just couldn’t see why he would now. Probably thinking along the same lines, the three other boys were exchanging rapid but subtle glances of confused concern, Martha’s brow furrowing in a search for apprehension beside him. 

But, before anyone could say anything, Alex had gone on to continue. He seemed somewhat awkward, but talked anyway. His hands shook slightly in his lap.

“She died from some illness I didn't realize for some reason I didn't understand. I had the same thing, but I managed to come back from it while she didn't. My dad had run out on us years before, and my brother ran away as soon as passed, so I was put into my first foster home within the month.”

As Alex spoke, he avoided everyone’s gazes, kept his eyes locked on his plate. But his voice was steady, strong. The boys looked at each other in confusion over his head, trying to convey silent messages with their expressions, but Washington cut them off with a glance of his own. _Just let the boy talk._

“The Stevens were good to me, really good to me. But, of course, the hurricane leveled the town the year after my mom’s death, and although none of the family was hurt they just couldn't support me anymore with the added expenses of having to rebuild their lives. So, I was moved to another home in Nevis, this one not quite as good as the Stevens. Actually, not even close to as good as the Stevens. They were the first to teach me how much the system sucks.”

Washington reached out a tentative hand, expression gentle, aching to help the boy before him. “Alex-” 

But Martha shushed him immediately, watching Alex with concern but interest, brow lowered with apprehension. Washington pulled back with a breath of a sigh, still looking conflicted with wanting to reassure and comfort Alex. _You can’t save him from his past._

“It was while I was with that family that I started writing. I found a notebook and just let everything flood out onto the pages. And then someone found that notebook, and one of my articles started circulating the town, and suddenly I was being shipped off to New York.”

Lafayette was listening to this with plain curiosity but worry as the story continued on, eyes darkening with everything Alex had to experience. Herc began getting an air of protectiveness to him as Alex spoke while John just looked concerned, the boys fully into the story, Alex’s voice still not wavering. Washington swallowed hard under the warm kitchen lighting, everyone’s attention fixed on Alex from around the wooden table.

“Once I got to New York, I was being bounced around foster homes almost immediately. Some were… uh, better than others, but I never stayed in one home for long. That continued for a few more years. When the opportunity for a special placement in Virginia came through after so many crappy homes, my caseworker jumped on the chance, so I that’s how I got here. But then that home fell through too, and I was back to being bounced around, now just in a different state.”

Alex still refused to meet anyone’s gaze or even look up, so he missed the Martha’s reassuring look towards Washington, who was looking increasingly upset. Yes, Alex had experienced the system in it’s worst, yes, Alex had certainly gone through some things, and yes, Alex had a pathetic excuse for a childhood, but the boy already knew this. He didn't need Washington to fly off the handle, as if the teacher losing control was needed for Alex to grow aware of how truthfully terrible his life was. So Martha kept Washington in control, her gaze soft, her expression firm.

The mood had plummeted from cheerful and lighthearted to solemn and serious extremely quickly. The kitchen was silent except for Alex’s soft, rough voice, everyone watching him with transfixed focus. The space was warm with the steam of the cooking food, forgotten on the table before them, and the night was darkening around them.

“So, I was kind of stuck in limbo. Constantly being moved, constantly being ignored, constantly having to start over. It was hard. It was really, really hard. And then, about a year after I got into Virginia, I got placed with King. And a few days after I got placed with King, everything went to hell.”

No one was quite sure when John’s hand had moved to cover Alex’s, but now the two boys sat hand in hand, John watching the younger boy as if he was determined to never let him hurt again. But then Alex’s gaze rose from the table, eyes suspiciously glassy but decisive. He took a shaky breath, squeezing John’s hand lightly, and continued on. 

“What I’m trying to say is, I’ve been without a family since I was a kid. My dad ran out on us, my mom passed, and I grew up alone. This is the first family that I’ve truly been a part of.” Alex paused to take another breath, swallowing hard. Washington was suddenly aware that the boy seemed to be steeling himself for something, as if he was going to say something that was going to be hard for him. “I don't want to screw it up, and I’ll try my best to do what I’m apparently supposed to. But you gotta understand, I’ve never had something like this before, so if I take a little longer to trust you or tell you things or do whatever a normal teenager is supposed to do with their friends and parents just give me some time and instruction and I swear to God that I’ll try-”

“Alex.” Finally, Washington was done. He rested his hand on the edge of the table, expression set, as he rose his voice sternly. “ _Alexander_.”

Alex stopped mid sentence, expression nervous but eyes terrified as Washington interrupted. But, the boy had just spilled pretty much all his deepest, darkest secrets along with a good part of his tragic backstory, and Washington couldn't find it in him to be upset that Alex would be so stressed about this. His voice quickly transformed into gentle as he spoke. _This poor kid._

“Son, please, don't worry about that,” he requested gently, eyes soft. The boys and Martha watched him mutely, watching to see how he would handle this. But he ignored them, gaze fixed on Alex, stance unthreatening. “You’re doing just fine. We get it, okay? You’re just fine.”

Alex swallowed hard, looking vulnerable in the warm lighting of the kitchen. John’s hand was still in his. The food was cooling and forgotten before them, everyone’s attention instead focused on the boy with a tendency to underestimate his self worth. He took another shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, son,” Washington corrected softly. “But where is this coming from? Is everything alright?”

Biting his lip, Alex’s words began tumbling out seemingly before he had realized. He got increasingly animated as he spoke, using hand motions and frantic expressions as his tangent went on. “It’s just- you guys are way too good for me to go on and screw up. You’re the most incredible people I have ever met, and for some odd reason you seem to actually want me around, and you care about me and watch out for me and worry about me and no one has done that for me in such a long time and you’re just so amazing, you guys, and I really really don't want to lose that but it's just my luck to somehow mess everything up but you’re the only and best family I could ever even imagine having and I don't want to get attached but it's way too late for that I just don't know what to do anymore-”

“Breathe, Alex,” Washington instructed softly. 

The boy tried to nod, his words cutting off as he brushed roughly at the tears beginning to roll down his face, frustrated. Lafayette reached out with a gentle hand to sweep away a tear he missed. His eyes were wet as well. 

The kitchen was quiet and warm, the group of them seated around the kitchen table with serious expressions on their faces. Martha was silent beside Washington but had her hand on his forearm, a constant reminder to stay calm, to stay in control.

Meanwhile, Herc sat across from Alex with a grave expression on his face, arms crossed securely over his chest, while Laf frowned in concern as he pulled away from the other boy. John was quiet but protective next to Alex, a constant and reassuring presence. The kitchen smelled faintly of the meal before them, the night darkening out the windows as Alex got a hold of himself. Washington had to silently wonder at the fact that the world around them seemed to go on with it’s everyday life, everyone else just appeared to be living as though everything was normal. But, the Mount Vernon kitchen had just about frozen in time, the only things mattering in the slightest being the people surrounding the table and the lives interlinked between those people, the network of relationships somehow stretched among them. 

Finally, it seemed that Alex finally found his voice again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, blinking at the wood of the table. Although no one spoke, John squeezed his hand briefly, a message coming from everyone that it was okay, that he was alright, to take all the time he needed. “I’m sorry I brought everyone down. This has just been bothering me for a while.”

“We know,” John said quietly. 

“I’m sorry,” Alex repeated, the words a sigh.

Martha took the quiet as her cue to speak up herself for the first time. The other boys shifted awkwardly, far from comfortable but willing to be there for Alex, being the flat out good kids they were. Washington watched this fondly, his worry for Alex momentarily overshadowed by affection. 

“Listen, honey,” Martha said gently, waiting until Alex to meet her eyes to continue and redirecting Washington‘s attention back to the matter at hand. “You don't have to worry about getting attached, or losing us, or screwing anything up. This isn’t your normal foster home- I think you know that by this point. We are in this with you for the long run. We aren’t just going to give up on you. We will _never_ give up on you.”

“Martha is completely right,” Washington said, leaning forward slightly onto the table. Alex eyed him tentatively, expression vulnerable and face flushing with slight embarrassment at the way he was at the center of attention, the center of focus. “Nothing you can do will make us not want you. Nothing you can say, nothing you can screw up will change anything about the way we feel about you. We will never hurt you, or physically punish you, or do anything that will put you anywhere near harm’s way. _Never._ ” Taking a breath, Washington recollected himself. This was shaping up to be quite the emotional dinner. “Alex, we will watch out for you and take care of you for as long as you might possibly let us. We are not going to spontaneously drop you, or just let you go out into the world alone, or give up on you, no matter what happens.” Another pause, another breath, another moment of recollection and composing. “We will never stop loving you, Alex, no matter what happens.”

Alex’s gaze snapped up, dark eyes wide.

For a moment, Washington was confused. What had he said? Had he done something wrong? But, after another moment of consideration, it hit him. He had done something right. 

_How long has it been since Alex was told that he was loved?_

The question popped up in Washington’s mind and stayed there determinedly, stunning him into trying to figure out an answer as he stared mutely at Alex, thoughts racing. Looking at the way John was sitting next to Alex protectively, Washington wouldn’t have been surprised to hear that ‘I love you’s had already been passed between the two, but when had been the last time that Alex had been told he was loved by a parental figure? By someone he was in the care of? By someone who should have told him every single day?

Way too long ago.

“Alex, we love you,” Washington repeated, kicking himself for not saying this sooner. His expression was surprisingly fierce, but his eyes were gentle. “We love you and care about you so much. Please know that, alright? Please.”

Although Alex’s expression did not change, his features neutral and set, his eyes softened. Melted, really, under the simple confirmation. “Really?”

Washington let out a breath of a laugh. “ _Yes._ Of course we do. Did you really think we didn’t?” With a start, Washington realized that there may have be truth to that statement After a moment of guilt, he had reached a determined solution. Never again would Alex not realize just how much he meant to them. Washington simply wouldn’t allow it. Never again.

Swallowing hard, Alex also released a breath of a chuckle, using his sleeve to dry the dampness still remaining. “I know,” he said softly, expression one of relief but hope, finally looking content with a tearfully relieved smile. “I know now.”

“Oh, Alex,” Herc said quietly.

The family was quiet with everything that had happened; the conversation, the past month, the hospital stay, and above everything else the foster kid that had come and turned their worlds upside down. John let out a breath, a watery smile directed towards Alex, Hercules blowing out a breath too when the tension seemed to begin to lesson, as Lafayette looked touched and emotional while Martha appeared satisfied although somewhat drained and Washington was just waiting. For a long moment, everything was quiet. 

“Well, this has been the single most dramatic dinner I have ever attended in all of my life,” Hercules said flatly. 

Then, laughter.

Just as quickly as the mood had sombered, the space brightened as Martha gestured to the food while laughing about the fact no one had even taken a bite yet, causing the boys to dig in with a vengeance a moment later, Alex glad to be out of the spotlight and the other boys glad at the quickly dispersing awkwardness. The room had rapidly transformed from solemn and quiet into something resembling cheer, as the night had been meant to be. 

It took a moment for everyone to find a rhythm that they were familiar and comfortable with, of course, but they were well on their way. Washington knew that this was just the result of too much unexpected tension and stress, and now everyone was just sharing the relief of being able to breathe again. Regardless, though, the way everything had so quickly shifted truly amazing. 

But it wasn’t this, exactly, that Washington was wondering at as he watched his family laugh and live together, Alex drying his tears as the conversation was redirected and he smiled as well, looking free. No, he was more wondering about how in the world this had happened and what on God’s green earth would happen next. 

But, Washington had to give them some credit. They had gotten this far. They had gone from a collection of lost souls to something resembling a family, from a bunch of wandering spirits to a home. Each of them had their stories, each of them had their pasts, each of them had their challenges, and Washington wasn’t about to deny that. But they all had their strengths, their futures, their spirits. And they had each other, now. They had a built in support group of amazing people that would help them through whatever they may encounter. The six of them would have each other no matter what happened. 

They were a family.

They were a home.

And nothing, no matter how severe, no matter how challenging, no matter how bad, was going to change fact. 

Washington was positive of at least that in the insanity of this world, sitting with his family in the warm, laughing kitchen. Things had been and were going to be hard, from learning to manage Alex’s PTSD to facing the rest of the school year to watching John and Alex try to figure out their relationship to the King trials and everything that may come along with them. Washington knew that as well. But they were a family now. 

They would get through this together. 

They always did. 

Washington was positive of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is, guys. The last chapter of I Know That Greatness Lies in You.
> 
> So, this story has gotten more of a response than I ever even imagined it possibly receiving. Your comments, kudos, and hits means more to me than I could possibly express; thank you all so, so much for just sticking with me throughout this story. If you just popped in today, well, hello, and I hope you liked this as well. But, seriously, this entire thing has been such an incredible experience. 
> 
> I am most definitely interested in doing either a prequel or sequel to this story. Probably both, eventually, but I’m going to let you guys tell me which one you want to see first. The prequel would focus around twelve year old Rev Squad, particularly John, while the sequel would pick up where this one left off. What do you guys think? Y’all in? (Quick edit: the sequel is now up! Part 2 of I'll Do Whatever it Takes, head over and check it out if you'd like!)
> 
> Also, I just wanted to say again, thank you for every beautiful comment, every kind thought behind each kudos, the smiles that came each time we reached a hit milestone. You guys have all gone on this journey with me- this fic is all of yours as it is mine. Thank you for everything.
> 
> Special thanks to:  
> astroally88- for your sweet, dutiful comments on nearly every chapter.  
> Moonberrycat- for some of the sweetest comments I have ever received.  
> Bettina- for giving me several comments that will forever be among my favorites.  
> LJD- for just chatting with me.  
> Eve Donaldson- for being a kind, reassuring constant in my works.  
> Dach- for simply being a friend to me throughout this entire story, and every single incredible comment you've left. Thank you for sticking with me from I'm Home and on; that's dedication.  
> And, of course, my beautiful Jaysong- you've gotten me through this entire work. Thank you for reading every text message, listening to every rant, and being the extraordinary person you are.  
> Thanks, you guys. 
> 
> Okay, I’m sorry for this mega author’s note, and I’m going to wrap it up now. But, still, just thank you. Thank you for everything.
> 
> Love you all.
> 
> -Sparrow


End file.
